


The Real Ripslinger

by ShuTodoroki



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Depending on whether I make it spicy ;), Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Flying, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, In Vino Veritas, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Racing, Rating May Change, Redemption, Romance, Slow Burn, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShuTodoroki/pseuds/ShuTodoroki
Summary: Two years after his defeat at Wings Around The Globe and his downfall, Ripslinger is determined to regain his rightful place as the WATG champion, and he's not going to let a glorified tractor with wings beat him again. However, in a sudden turn of events, he finds his relationship with Dusty changing for the better, resulting in a visit to Propwash and the beginning of something new between the P-51 Mustang and the Air Tractor.
Relationships: Dusty Crophopper & Ripslinger
Comments: 55
Kudos: 9





	1. New York

When Ripslinger hit the portable toilets after crossing the finish line in second at the 2013 Wings Around the Globe, he knew that his racing career was practically over. And it was all because of a crop duster. A _crop duster!_ He, specially configured for racing, was beaten by a crop duster. It was humiliating, to say the least.

His race team immediately lost a lot of credibility when he was defeated, especially when some details of what he did to sabotage Dusty came to light. Media attention focused on pictures of Ishani wearing the Sky Slycer Mark Five propeller in Nepal and Shanghai, and then Dusty wearing it from Mexico City to New York.

Ishani didn't hesitate to reveal that she had made the mistake of making a deal with him, and that was why Dusty ended up flying through the train tunnel and almost got hit by an incoming train. Of course, that wasn't his intention; he couldn't have predicted that the former crop duster would have flown through the tunnel. He expected him to go around. 

The damage was done, however, and he could only be thankful that nothing else that happened had come to light. However, that made him wonder. Dusty knew that it was him when he pushed him into the arid landscape of Deadstick Desert. How come he never said anything? 

Dusty couldn't have known that it was his henchplanes who took off his antenna over the Pacific Ocean, but what happened at Deadstick Desert was another story. If he revealed such a thing, everyone would most likely believe him, and Ripslinger would race no more. _He probably just thinks I'm not a threat any more._ He usually presumed.

Even though he wanted to protest that, he knew it was true. Team RPX wasn't known as the best racing team any more. He lost his henchplanes; after being trapped between canyon walls for hours and the downfall of his racing team, they cut all ties and headed back to New Zealand to race. 

Apparently, his bad treatment of them had already been coming to a breaking point, and they figured there was no point staying with him since they lost the fame and glory from racing under his team. He was livid when they left, but they didn't exactly have a contract stating they were bound to Team RPX. He should've thought of that.

But he didn't, and he was left alone again. Ten years of success apparently meant nothing. It definitely didn't to the media; his new name had practically become "Ripstinker," and it wasn't just because he was covered in sludge from the portable toilets he had crashed into. 

It had become a name that summed up everything he had done during that 2013 WATG competition, since his name was also being implicated as the culprit when Dusty's antenna was taken off over the Pacific Ocean. 

He had his reasons, though, and he wasn't about to explain them to anyone. He didn't expect anyone to understand. He had taken a year off in hopes that the media attention would die down so he could live without seeing "Ripstinker" on RSN once a week, and it did. Except he then saw Dusty Crophopper twice as much.

Apparently, the air racer had become a firefighter to save his hometown of Propwash Junction from being shut down. How sweet. Meanwhile, all the attention came back when he announced that he was going to race in the 2015 WATG, and it wasn't the good kind.

He had lost his pre-qualification status so he had to requalify, while ignoring the icy stares of the other racers there. He had lost his ostentatious stage at the end of pit row, and it instead became a regular tent, just like everyone else. No light show, no DJ to play music. Just him, and his pit crew. 

When he arrived, Roper regarded him with a cold stare, called him the hated "Ripstinker" nickname, and practically shoved him in the direction of his tent so he didn't have to talk with the P-51 any longer. Apparently, two years wasn't enough to dissipate the hatred that was associated with him. 

He felt that as well when he made his way to his tent, which forced him to pass the tents of his fellow racers. Probably on purpose. The planes fell into two camps: either they pretended he didn't exist, or they glared at him. Either way, he didn't let them bother him. 

He was still no racer to scoff at, and he would show them when he took back his rightful position as the reigning champion of the WATG competition. He didn't need his henchplanes to win. He only needed himself. 

Dusty hadn't arrived yet from what he saw, which was good. He didn't want to face the former crop duster if he could help it. It would just lead to more bad press for him, and he didn't need any more of that. 

Right as he thought that, Dusty arrived, and the reception was as different as night and day. All of the racers greeted him happily, while some made hushed warnings for him to stay away from him. How could he tell? They were pretty bad at hiding when they were looking at him, especially El Chupacabra.

His tent was the only one facing the racers' entrance; who else would they be looking at? He rolled his eyes, and blared some music from the only speaker he had left so he could relax while paying no attention to the fact no one wanted him there. He didn't care what others thought of him any more.

Initially, he was indignant from all of the bad press surrounding his name, but he slowly became jaded as time went on. He just stayed in the racing game because he wasn't about to go down so easily. The racing world needed a star, and _he_ was going to be that star. Not Dusty.

What he expected was that Dusty would talk to the other racers, and then head off to his tent to turn in for the night. Why would he want to associate with someone who obviously hated him so much? What he didn't expect was for Dusty to head over to his tent, despite what he perceived as the other racers telling him not to.

Ripslinger glared at Dusty as he approached, assuming the worst. Was he here to rub in his victory? The goody two shoes wouldn't. Not in front of the racers. He was probably putting on a show that he's such a _nice_ plane, even talking to the plane who had threatened his life so many times. Dusty was so predictable.

He practically punched the switch for the speaker to turn it off with his rear landing gear, so he could hear what Dusty had to say. "What do _you_ want?" He spat. 

“Well, I uh…” Dusty trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say as Ripslinger regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “I wanted to know how you were doing. I didn’t see you at the 2014 Wings Around The Globe.”

The farm boy wanted to know how _he_ was doing? How did he think he was doing? Dusty obviously wasn’t dumb, since he had figured out how to beat him. He could figure it out. “Besides losing my henchplanes and almost all of my equipment, I’m doing just fine.” He sneered.

“Oh. Um…I’m sorry that happened to you.” was all that Dusty managed to say, while Ripslinger looked on at Dusty with a tinge of confusion. Dusty would be less awkward if he was faking concern, and would’ve said more. Was that pity?

Ripslinger let out a low growl as he lunged at Dusty, causing the former crop duster to flinch back as Ripslinger looked at him with a contemptuous glare. “Listen here, _farm boy._ I don’t need you, or anyone else pitying me.”

Dusty had an expression of fear for a split second, but he quickly recovered and was determined to put on a brave face. “I haven’t dusted crops in two years, Rip. Give it up. I try to be nice to you, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Easy for you to say. You’re on top of the world. Dusty this. Dusty that. Hell, everyone was so proud of you when you became a firefighter and found it so sweet it damn near gave me a cavity! You can do anything because everyone loves you _so much._ ‘I’m sorry that happened to you?’ _You’re_ the reason why I’ve lost almost everything. Don’t you _dare_ patronize me by being ‘nice.’”

Dusty listened to Ripslinger’s tirade, and his expression slightly softened, but he still felt compelled to defend himself. He knew that Ripslinger hated him, but he had a feeling that the reasons why had changed over the past two years. He hadn’t thought about the P-51 after he won the WATG in 2013; the last he saw of him was when he was towed away.

2014 was a whirlwind since suddenly his name was everywhere; he was winning race after race, signing autographs with his tire treads, and then it all came to a halt when Propwash was shut down. By the time he was at Piston Peak, the only time he had heard Ripslinger’s name was when Cad called him by that name mistakenly.

With how busy he was, he never thought about what had happened to the Mustang. That is, until now. “I’m not trying to patronize you! It’s been two years since that happened. And, you know, I thought that maybe we could…start over? I’ve sort of changed over those two years, and I thought maybe-” Dusty tried to explain, before he was cut off.

“What, that I’d change too? That I’d join the Dusty fan club like everyone else?” Ripslinger scoffed at the notion, rolling his eyes. “You ruined the racing empire I created. You took away my title as racing champion. You left me with practically _nothing._ If you know what’s good for you…” He menacingly inched closer to Dusty. “You’ll stay away from me.”

Dusty felt himself becoming more intimidated by Ripslinger as he flinched backwards again, and he realized that he wasn't getting anywhere. He probably wouldn't get anywhere if he persisted either. "…Fine." He said in a resigned manner, before he turned around to head back to his tent.

Ripslinger grumbled as he turned his speaker back on. That should get Dusty off of his tail. The only time that he'd speak to Dusty again was when he won this year's Wings Around The Globe. He was going to focus on the race, and he wasn't going to make the same mistake that he did last time which allowed Dusty to defeat him.

El Chupacabra quickly approached Dusty when he was a sufficient distance away from Ripslinger's tent, a worried expression on his face. "Dusty, are you alright?"

Dusty nodded. "Yeah. I tried to talk to Rip. Seems like he hates me more than ever." 

El Chupacabra shook his head, sighing. "That is why I told you not to talk to him, amigo. He looked like he tried to kill you." 

"Nah, that was him just being intimidating. I can't help but wonder why he hates me so much…"

El Chupacabra looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow. "Well there's a lot of reasons why he would hate you if you look at it from his point of view. You beat him in his sport, and I think he associates you with his downfall. Not like that's true, since everything that brought him down was _his_ fault." 

"I meant during the 2013 Wings Around The Globe. He was so dead set on sabotaging me during the race, even when I was in last place." Dusty pointed out. 

"I believe Ishani said he thought you didn't belong because you weren't built for racing."

"I don't know, El Chu. Something just doesn't add up." Dusty mused.

"Well, I would advise you not to try and find out, compadre. All of us try to stay away from him. He is scarier than my namesake…"

Dusty glanced at where Ripslinger was, and then back at El Chupacabra. "Yeah. I don't blame you." Even though Ripslinger threatened him to never talk to him again, Dusty still couldn't shake that there was something else to the P-51 that he didn't know about. He didn't know why, but he was determined to find out.


	2. Iceland

Ripslinger easily took the lead on the leg to Iceland, as Dusty tried to fly higher but he still wasn’t fully accustomed to the cold. However, Dusty was already in second, right on his tail. Usually, he would have Ned and Zed as a buffer that would put Dusty in fourth, but he didn’t have any of the luxuries that he did last time. 

He gritted his teeth as he landed on the airstrip in Reykjavik. No matter. He took the lead early, like he always did. He was going to win, and he didn’t care if everyone else was against him. He was still the Green Tornado, the Prince of Propellers in his mind, and Dusty was going to get caught in the riptide and left behind. 

The fire pit in front of him glowed dimly as he sipped from his can of oil after the long stretch across the North Atlantic, giving him strength for the leg to Germany tomorrow morning. It irked him when he saw Dusty roll in shortly after he arrived, a stark contrast to how he came in a few hours after the other racers, shivering with icicles hanging from his wings two years ago.

He rolled his eyes as he headed to his hangar at Reykjavik, warm enough to rest up for the night in the single interconnected terminal building, which was designed as such so that the racers didn't have to be exposed to the extreme cold. 

Besides, all of the hangars had additional heat lamps that he could bask in, which was the only thing that got close to the luxuries he used to have two years ago. _No point in thinking about the past, since it's not gonna matter anymore when I regain my legacy._ He told himself.

Dusty noticed Ripslinger leave almost at the same time he arrived, and he raised an eyebrow at that. Ripslinger seemed to be actively avoiding him now, though he doubted that it was because the Mustang was afraid of him. It was probably just out of not wanting to deal with him, or maybe it was a tactic of ignoring his competition.

He doubted that Ripslinger had done nothing over the two years that had gone by, and he probably had trained to become a better racer, judging by how he couldn't keep up on the first leg. He expected Ripslinger to be happy, but he looked pretty pensive from what he saw before Ripslinger left.

Or, maybe he was overthinking things and he couldn't really see Ripslinger's expression in the dim light of the terminal building, since the only substantial light was coming from the fire pits set up for the racers. He didn't have any time to think about it any farther, since he heard the terminal doors opening, and he saw Bulldog, who greeted him happily.

By the time he was done talking to Bulldog and some of the other racers who arrived, it was pretty late at night, and Dusty excused himself so he could head off to rest up. Maybe he could fit in talking to his friends back at Propwash Junction as well.

Once he arrived at his hangar, he stepped on the pedal for the radio and put in the frequency for Propwash Junction. Thanks to time zones, even though it was late at night for him, it was still relatively bright at Propwash, so he wasn't radioing at an unreasonable time. "This is Dusty Crophopper to Propwash Junction." 

Skipper immediately picked up; they had set up the radio in his hangar, since Dusty would most likely be talking to Skipper the most for pointers. "Dusty! I heard that you're in second place. That's a great start." 

"Yeah, it definitely is! Flying higher definitely helps keep ice off." Dusty said.

"I'm glad you're off to a strong start. Hold on; let me get the others. Sparky?" 

"Roger that!" Sparky replied, as he quickly headed off to find Chug and Dottie.

"The only plane holding you back from first place is Ripslinger. But don't worry; he's without his henchplanes, and the Bavarian obstacle course is your strong suit." 

"Yeah, about that…I've been thinking about him a lot lately." Dusty admitted.

"As I said, you don't have to worry about him. He's not going to try anything dirty like last time if he wants to race again." Skipper told Dusty.

"Are you talking about Ripstinker?" Chug asked as he approached the radio with Dottie, laughing. "Funny how he talked about you smelling of Vitaminamulch when he smelled of-" 

"Okay! Don't need a description!" Dottie interjected, before talking into the radio. "As Skipper said, there's a lot of bad press surrounding him. He _has_ to play fair this time around, which increases your chances of winning against him." 

"That's not what I'm concerned about, though. You see, I kind of approached him when I arrived at JFK." 

"You did _what?_ " Skipper questioned, incredulous.

"Why would you do that? He hates you." Dottie pointed out. It should be obvious that you avoided people that hated you. It was the only natural thing to do.

"That's just it! I thought, you know, maybe his hatred for me might've died down over the past two years, but it didn't. He told me to stay away from him." Dusty explained.

"Well, after you won and some of the shady stuff he did got exposed, he pretty much lost everything." Chug recalled.

Skipper nodded in agreement. "It makes sense that he wouldn't be on best terms with you, to say the least. He associates you with his downfall." 

"El Chu said that as well. To be honest, I haven't thought of him since when I won the Wings Around The Globe, and I don't have that mutual hatred." 

"Well, duh. You're a nice plane. He isn't. You're willing to see the good in anyone. Even someone like Ripslinger where I'm pretty sure there's none." Dottie remarked.

“Keep in mind he almost took off my entire tail.” Skipper muttered. 

“Which just makes me wonder why he would go to such great lengths to win. I don’t think it could just be because he was threatened, because that whole new propeller deal with Ishani? That took place in Germany when I was still in last place.”

“Uh…the race after that was the leg with the 1,000 foot ceiling, right?” Chug asked.

“Yep. That’s when I started doing well.” Dusty then realized something. “Maybe he knew flying low was my strong suit, and that’s why he wanted to sabotage me?”

“Probably. Which is why you need to be especially vigilant in the second half of the race. He’s going to become more desperate when he realizes he’s going to get beaten again.” Skipper advised.

“But he wouldn’t dare try anything, like Dottie said, right?” 

“I don’t trust him to play fair, despite everything that’s happened.” Skipper said.

“Don’t worry, Skip. He’s without his henchplanes; it’ll be hard to do it alone. Besides, the other racers will obviously see anything that he does that is unfair. Everyone’s gotten better so the competition is more tight. But I’ll be sure to look out for him.” Dusty reassured Skipper.

“What made you want to talk to him in the first place, though?” Dottie asked. “Just curiosity about why he hates you?”

“I guess. Also a bit of pity? I’ve been out of the loop pertaining to what’s been going on with him, but now everyone hates him, and no one wants to talk to him. He lost his henchplanes, so he has no one to talk to. I know he used to talk to Ned and Zed a lot, but now he’s alone. He seemed jealous of how everyone likes me now.”

“Pity? Dusty, he left you to die out in the Pacific by chopping off your antenna, and after that he almost ran you into the ground over the Deadstick Desert.” Skipper pointed out, not understanding why Dusty would pity someone like that. Had he forgotten?

“Skip’s right. I’d say stay away from him before he tries to kill you again.” Chug advised.

“He wouldn’t kill me. Not with everyone supporting me here.” Dusty said with certainty. Why was he so certain? Well…he just sensed from when he talked to Ripslinger, and Ripslinger told him to stay away, it was more of a defensive behavior than offensive. “I just…who wants to win so much that they’d try to kill their competition?”

“Ripslinger. That’s about as much of an answer that I can give you.” Dottie admitted. “Again, Dusty, even though you’re certain that he won’t try anything, it’s still not a good idea to try and talk to him.”

“…I guess you guys are right. Focus on the race, right?”

“Yep. The leg to Germany is going to be yours, but don’t get too complacent.” Skipper told Dusty.

“Of course, Skip. I’ll talk to you guys later.” Dusty said, before he hung up. So, he was truly alone in his endeavor to talk to Ripslinger. He wasn’t even sure if he was motivated by pity anymore. It was more a mystifying curiosity that had taken hold of him. 

“You can do anything because everyone loves you so much.” Ripslinger had told him in New York during his tirade, and Dusty could tell that a lot of the anger was directed at how he was seen as so much better than the Mustang. But wasn’t his better standing justified?

Ripslinger had made it perfectly clear that he blamed Dusty for his downfall, but in reality, it was his own fault. No one told him to sabotage the underdog every chance he got. He could’ve regarded him cordially, but even from right at the beginning, in Lincoln during the qualifications, Ripslinger was already making fun of him for being a crop duster.

Granted, everyone was doing that, but Dusty knew that Ripslinger already had that mindset of “Dusty doesn’t belong here because he’s a crop duster.” Of course, that shifted towards being threatened by him, but only someone truly heartless would do such things. 

Everyone was trying to avoid him, but Dusty was known for going against the grain. Skipper was imposing, but he managed to get the reclusive Corsair out of his shell, though Skipper had never threatened his life (unless you counted the very beginning when Skipper threatened him with being the 51st plane he shot down). 

Well, maybe Skipper wasn’t the best comparison, but Ripslinger was acting like Skipper now, never talking to anyone and staying in his own hangar. Ripslinger must have a reason, and from what Dusty had garnered, it wasn’t a concrete one besides the surface “Ripslinger wanted to win,” or “Ripslinger didn’t want to be beaten by a crop duster.”

Those were superficial reasons, and Dusty was convinced that there was something more detailed underneath. Just like when Skipper was hiding his past, Ripslinger was hiding something as well behind the facade he put up. 

Dusty stuck his head outside his hangar and looked down the dimly-lit corridor in the direction of Ripslinger’s hangar, for a moment considering whether or not he should approach the Mustang now. He sighed, sticking his head back in his own hangar, closing the hangar doors soon after.

 _It’s pretty late at night. Not now. Maybe in Germany._ He resolved in his head, as he turned out the light in his hangar, the heat lamps being the only source of light as he shut his eyes. He needed sleep to do well in the leg tomorrow; he could think about it when he arrived in Germany.


	3. Germany

Like Skipper predicted, Dusty won the leg from Iceland to Germany, to Ripslinger’s chagrin. He took the lead like always as he maneuvered around the Bavarian landscape effortlessly, but Dusty, somehow, had the advantage. The orange racer pulled ahead of him, and in the end Dusty was the one who landed first, not him, despite his best efforts.

That was a stark contrast to how it was last time. Dusty was last because he saved Bulldog. With no incidents this time, Dusty easily pulled ahead of him, probably because he was better in agility, while he was better in speed. And, unfortunately for him, the next time speed would even remotely help him was the stretch from Shanghai to Mexico City across the Pacific.

The leg to India had that stupid 1,000 foot ceiling, he had to maneuver around the Himalayas to Nepal, and the terrain was similarly treacherous from Nepal to Shanghai. He only did well over oceans, and that wasn't enough to win the competition. It would all come down to the final leg from Mexico City to New York, like last time.

To sum everything up, the competition was not looking in his favor with Dusty around. That is, unless he managed to win some of the other legs of the race that favored Dusty. Which was unlikely, since he was built for speed. _Ugh…everything was a lot simpler when stupid Crophopper wasn't around._

He sulked in the German tavern by himself at the bar, while annoyingly happy polka music played in the background. Sure, everyone was happy, but not him. "Second place…damn you Crophopper…" 

"You sad. You drink." A bartender said gruffly, before she practically slammed a can of oil and a can of gasoline on the bar table. _Well, maybe not everyone is happy…_ Ripslinger idly thought, as the bartender drove away to serve someone else. 

"That's some advice…" He was slightly amused as he took a sip from the can of oil. Angry was more the word for how he was feeling, but whatever. He was going to ask for a drink anyway to spend the night.

Meanwhile, Dusty was busy catching up with Franz, who had approached him and El Chupacabra at a table in the tavern. It was nice to talk to his first fan; Franz supported him even when he was in last, and Dusty would always appreciate that. 

"I still can't thank you enough for being an inspiration to all of us." Franz thanked, smiling.

Dusty laughed, waving a landing gear dismissively. "Think nothing of it. I was even starting to doubt myself when I first entered this competition. You know, since I almost died multiple times."

"Well, it is good that you persevered! Now everyone is rooting for you in this competition." 

"Si, I also know the importance of perseverance! I would have never succeeded with Rochelle, otherwise." El Chupacabra chipped in, glancing at Rochelle quickly, who was on the other side of the tavern talking to Ishani.

"Uh, if you persevered with any more of Love Machine, Rochelle would've never forgiven you." Dusty pointed out, which El Chupacabra just brushed off. 

"Even if so, it ended well, and that is all that matters." 

"It's too bad that Ripslinger decided to return, though it doesn't seem like he poses any threat to you since you beat him in this sector." Franz said.

"I don't know, Franz. I still have to look out for him. Skipper said he still thinks Rip might try something." 

"If he is wise, he would not do such a thing." El Chupacabra asserted. "But that doesn't mean that you go and look for trouble, amigo." 

"What do you mean look for trouble?" 

"As I said in New York, Ripslinger hates you. You'll just aggravate him more by talking to him. It's like poking a sleeping bear. You are asking to get mauled." 

"El Chu, I don't know if I told you this, but if I didn't talk to Skipper out of fear of what would happen, he'd still be cooped up in his hangar like a recluse, and I would've probably never made it into Wings Around The Globe." 

"But your mentor didn't threaten your life multiple times, right? Even here in Germany we read about how Ripslinger almost got you run over by a train and chopped off your antenna over the Pacific Ocean." Franz pointed out.

"Well, that was kind of my fault for flying into a train tunnel, but I understand the antenna thing. I guess I've just been so busy over these past two years that what Ripslinger did doesn't seem so shocking to me anymore, since I'm successful now. I mean, I also kind of pity him just because he's been the subject of negative attention non stop."

"If you think it is right to talk to him, I will not stop you, but I still do not think it is a good idea. You are nice to pity everyone, and it seems like you want to give him a second chance?" El Chupacabra asked.

"Yeah, you could say that. I wish he'd, you know, explain why he hated me right from the start. Even at the qualifications he looked down on me for being a crop duster." 

El Chupacabra shrugged. "Well, you know how my reception went when we first met each other. Racers do not like those who go against the grain. Why, no one knew what indoor racing was!" 

"At least you had a background in some sort of racing." Dusty said. 

The conversation turned away from Ripslinger at that point, and Dusty chatted with El Chupacabra and Franz until he decided to head to his hangar…but not before making a stop at a certain Mustang's hangar. He said that he'd do it, and he didn't want to chicken out of it. 

Moonlight shone onto the asphalt making up the taxiways of the airport, working together with the airport lights to light his way. There was no confusion as to which hangar was his and which was Ripslinger's because each hangar was labeled with the racing number of that racer, but it was hard to see at night. 

Finally, he reached a hangar and made out a "13" on the hangar doors as he squinted. _Well, this was it._ He told himself, gulping from anxiety. It was confirmed that the hangar he was at was Ripslinger's hangar when he heard some muffled techno music coming from inside.

He immediately got deja vu to when he rang Skipper's doorbell to ask the Corsair to train him, but what he felt right now was probably ten times worse. Maybe because Ripslinger was scarier than Skipper? Yeah, that was probably it.

 _Never mind. You can do this, Dusty. Just knock, and you can go from there._ He lightly knocked on the hangar doors with his left wing tip, before he reversed slightly so there was some distance between the doors and himself. 

Ripslinger heard two knocks come from his closed hangar doors, and he wondered who would be visiting him at this time, until he remembered what happened at JFK airport. _It better not be the farm boy…_ He thought as he turned off his speaker, and went to answer the door.

Lo and behold, when he opened the hangar doors, it revealed the orange racer, and Ripslinger looked down at Dusty with an annoyed expression, while Dusty was starting to have second thoughts. "I thought I _told_ you to stay away from me."

"Well, uh…turns out I'm not a very good listener." Dusty retorted, trying to put up a facade of confidence when in reality he was starting to question whether this was really the right thing to do. Everyone else avoided him; why didn't he?

"You listened in Iceland. And you should do the same for the rest of the competition, if you know what's good for you." Ripslinger said, backing away to shut the hangar doors in Dusty's face. He didn't feel like talking to his rival, and he probably never would.

"Hey, wait!" Dusty quickly said, to which Ripslinger just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. _Well, that's a good sign if he doesn't want to kill me yet._ Dusty thought. "I just wanted to talk. I mean, you haven't talked to anyone else really since the competition has started and-"

" _Again_ with the pity!" Ripslinger growled. "How many times do I have to tell you, Crophopper, that I don't need pity from you, nor anyone else!"

Dusty knew he had said something wrong, and he had to quickly fix it. "Rip, please. I'm not being patronizing, if that's what you're saying. I'm just trying to be nice."

Ripslinger rolled his eyes, glancing around outside. Someone could see him talking to Dusty and assume the worst, and that’s not what he wanted. “Get in here before someone assumes that I’m trying to kill you.”

Dusty quickly obliged, thinking that it was a small victory when Ripslinger was willingly letting him into his hangar. Of course, the hangar didn’t look any different from his, save for the speaker, but it still meant that Ripslinger was willing to listen to him. 

"If so, what did you want to talk about? If you're here to gloat about your win today, I don't want to hear it." Ripslinger replied, increasingly becoming annoyed by Dusty. 

Dusty's eyebrows were knitted into a frown at what Ripslinger said. "Why do you have such a bad opinion about me? I'm not here to gloat, I'm not here to patronize. I'm just here to, you know, talk. It's lonely when you have no one to talk to." 

"Don't try and put yourself in my tires. You wouldn't understand a damn _thing._ " Ripslinger's voice dripped with hatred, as he glared at Dusty. What about “stay away from me” did the farm boy not understand? 

Even though Ripslinger was obviously getting ticked off, Dusty was not one to be deterred. One had to be tenacious to win races, and Dusty put that same tenacity into talking to Ripslinger, even though it was exceedingly difficult. “Maybe I would if you actually bothered to explain.”

“I’m not going to explain anything to _you_ of all planes! Why would you care, anyway?”

“Why do you think that I wouldn’t?” Dusty replied, turning the question back on Ripslinger. He had been nice to Ripslinger when he first met him, but things only turned sour when Ripslinger treated him with contempt.

“I don’t recall you ever talking to me after I was towed away. You watched me fall into obscurity as I lost _everything,_ while you became America’s _fucking_ sweetheart. I’ve been through literal hell while you haven’t endured anything since winning Wings Around The Globe!” Ripslinger snarled.

“You really think that?” Dusty glared up at the P-51, insulted that he thought that he hadn’t gone through any hardship. “I didn’t become a firefighter as a publicity stunt. I did it out of necessity to save Propwash from getting shut down.”

“Yeah, I know. I can read, Crophopper. That stupid story was in the news for weeks. Now you’re a racer _and_ a firefighter. What next?”

“You know what they didn’t report, though? That the whole reason Propwash got shut down was _my_ fault. I learned that my racing career was over, and I got mad and ended up starting a fire at the Fill ‘N Fly.”

“Yeah, right.” Ripslinger resisted the urge to laugh. “ _Your_ racing career? Over? You practically just started! What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about a broken gearbox that could’ve failed me at any moment!” Dusty yelled, the memory obviously still paining him. “I finally got a new one from an experienced mechanic at Piston Peak, but you don’t know how devastated I was when Dottie told me that I wouldn’t race again.”

Ripslinger didn’t expect Dusty to become angry like that; usually the orange racer kept his anger sequestered, unlike himself. Even though Dusty looked like he was about to cry, Ripslinger was still unaffected. “So what? Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

“No, I expect you to at least understand that’s why I didn’t reach out to you! I didn’t talk to El Chu from the time my gearbox failed to when I got certified as a firefighter. I had too much on my mind and I wasn’t in the best place.” 

“You and I are _nothing_ alike. You got your gearbox fixed. I’m still stuck with nothing! And you’re not helping! If you actually cared about me, you’d let me win this competition so I can regain some sort of my former glory that _you_ took away!”

Dusty really wanted to confront Ripslinger right then and there, and tell him that none of what happened to Ripslinger was his fault, and that Ripslinger was the one who tried to sabotage him, but he knew that would only escalate the situation. He would bring it up at some other time. 

“Even if you won, people would still hate you. Second place is nothing to scoff at, but the press surrounding you hasn’t gotten any better.”

“Gee, thanks.” Ripslinger replied sarcastically. “Anything else you want to point out?”

“That’s not what I meant. You hanging out around me would actually increase your public opinion.” Dusty explained.

“…What are you talking about, Crophopper?”

“Look, I don’t know how you really feel about me, but you must not hate me as much as everyone else thinks you do since we’re still talking.”

“I can remedy that.” Ripslinger said before Dusty had finished, to which Dusty just shot him a glare.

“If you’d let me _finish,_ I was going to say that if you’re willing to talk to me in public and you’re seen talking to me, people will pick up on that you don’t hate me and will hate you less. You know there’s a lot of reporters stationed in India, which is the next leg of the race.”

“So you’re telling me to act like I’m your friend all of a sudden.” Ripslinger was unimpressed.

“Unless you have a better idea about how to get the public to like you.”

Ripslinger hated how his efforts to regain the glory he once had rested on Dusty, but he had to admit that Dusty was right. The press was so sickeningly pro-Dusty that he’d have to jump on the bandwagon if he didn’t want to be met with hostility throughout the entire competition. “Fine. You’re lucky I have an incentive to even _pretend_ to like you. Now get out. It’s midnight, and I need to sleep.” 

Ripslinger practically shoved him out of his hangar and shut the doors, leaving him outside. _Well, that went better than I thought it would._ Dusty thought, as he headed to his own hangar. He just hoped that he fully knew what he had gotten himself into…


	4. India

Of course, that dumb 1,000 foot ceiling kept him trailing behind Dusty throughout the entire stretch to India, as he tried to maneuver around the various hills while not getting disqualified. Yep, speed wasn’t doing him much good in this instance. He wasn’t going to be forever stuck in second place, though.

When it came to flying over the Himalayas, he had a chance. He just had to fly higher, and focus on flying fast with the lesser air resistance at higher altitudes. Besides, flying over the mountains required skill, and he doubted that last year’s WATG gave Dusty enough experience with turbulence to be unaffected by it.

Along with a chance for victory flying over the Himalayas, he would hopefully regain some of his fanbase by sucking up to the media and tolerating Dusty in front of the cameras. Though he couldn’t help but wonder why Dusty gave him that advice.

He didn’t see any harm that could come from it, so it was obviously sincere, unlike the case with Ishani. Dusty was being nice to him. He had yet to see it, but it was probably good advice as well. He originally thought Dusty’s kindness was a facade to immediately antagonize him, but from all that he had witnessed, it was probably sincere.

 _Typical down to earth farmer that’s too nice for his own good…_ Ripslinger thought as he landed several seconds behind Dusty. _No matter. Time to put on a show._ His current sour expression quickly changed to a slight smirk, as he followed Dusty off of the runway towards where the reporters were.

“Hey, Dusty!” Ripslinger called out, purposefully using Dusty’s real name instead of “farm boy.” 

Literally all of the reporters turned around to look at Ripslinger, expecting him to try and beat the former crop duster up, but Dusty knew what Ripslinger was up to. _Well, Dusty, you gave him the advice. Better go along with it._

“Great race out there today.” Ripslinger said, nudging Dusty’s side with a wing tip which caused Dusty to practically jump from the unexpected contact, looking at Ripslinger wide-eyed. 

The reporters looked at him, stunned, while Ripslinger just looked back at them with a raised eyebrow, looking innocent. “What?”

One of the reporters mustered up the courage to speak. “Did you just…compliment Dusty Crophopper?”

“Yes. Yes I did. You guys have a _problem_ with that?” Ripslinger questioned.

Once Ripslinger asked that question, it was like the reporters’ inhibitions were gone.

“Are you now friends with Dusty?”

“So you don’t want to kill him?”

“When did you make amends?”

“Okay, okay, one at a time, guys.” Ripslinger said, slightly relieved that he finally wasn’t being received with glares after two years. _Seems like Dusty’s advice is working._ “Yes, I’m friends with him. No, I never wanted to kill him, and we made amends in Germany.” 

_If only it really was that way…_ Dusty sighed, until a reporter addressed him quickly, which snapped him back to reality and he put on a slight smile. He had to go along with it as well for it to work.

“So you and Ripslinger are now friends?” A reporter asked, wanting to confirm what Ripslinger was saying.

“Yeah, we are. It’s that simple.” Dusty replied, lying through his teeth. 

In reality, he didn’t know what he and Ripslinger were. Ripslinger seemed less angry with him than he was in New York, but they definitely weren’t friends. The way the P-51 kicked him out of his hangar in Germany? That made him think that they were still very much enemies.

All he knew was that it was going to be a very interesting conversation when Skipper and the others radioed him from Propwash Junction tonight. He was afraid that Skipper was going to be mad at him, since he specifically told him to stay away from the Mustang, and he obviously didn’t.

The other racers had arrived by this point, and they watched in confusion, especially El Chupacabra. He knew that Dusty would talk to Ripslinger from their conversation in the German tavern, but he found it hard to believe that Dusty and Ripslinger were suddenly friends in the span of a single night. 

He would talk to Dusty when the orange air racer managed to get away from the press. If it actually was true, then he would be happy that Ripslinger was reformed. If not, then he would wonder why Dusty was going along with a lie.

Ripslinger was quick to bask in the new positive attention he had received, while Dusty was having a hard time going along with his own plan. _Why am I sad that what Ripslinger is saying isn't true? It was my idea…_ Dusty thought.

"So is your new friendship going to affect how both of you compete in this competition?" One reporter asked.

"Nah. It's still a competition. It just means that both of us will compete fairly." Ripslinger replied coolly.

"Uh…same as what Rip said!" Dusty added. He knew that he had given that advice so Ripslinger would be more receptive to talking to him, but this just felt forced. 

"Now if you'll excuse us, we gotta rest up for the next leg tomorrow." Ripslinger said, as both planes drove away until the reporters moved on to the racers behind them. 

Ripslinger looked around to check that there weren't any more reporters nearby with mics, before his expression reverted back to that unimpressed look he usually gave Dusty. "Well, even though I have to pretend to like you, it seems to have gone well. I guess your advice worked after all." 

With that, he drove off to his own hangar, leaving Dusty behind, feeling quite forlorn. Dusty felt like he had settled for something fake, and he didn't receive any kind of enjoyment out of it. He didn't know why, but he wanted it to be, well, real. 

El Chupacabra noticed this as he quickly excused himself from the reporters once he saw that Dusty was alone. "Dusty?" He asked as he approached him. "You look so down. What is wrong, my friend?" 

Dusty didn't see the Mexican racer approach him, and he quickly looked up at his friend, putting on a more happy expression. He didn't want to reveal what he was really feeling. If it all unraveled that his "friendship" with Ripslinger was fake, he didn't know what would happen. "Ah, um…it's nothing, really." 

El Chupacabra looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow. "You are very bad at hiding your sadness." 

Dusty sighed. Well…he trusted El Chu. And he was probably going to tell his friends back at Propwash what was going on, so he supposed that it wouldn't hurt. "Okay. When I tell you what's going on, promise me that you'll tell no one else." 

El Chupacabra nodded. "I will tell no one." 

"I talked to Ripslinger in Germany, but we didn't really make amends. I mean, he didn't lunge at me or anything like what happened in New York, but I really wanted to show that I wasn't just being nice to him to be patronizing. So I kind of gave him the advice to pretend that we were friends so people would stop hating him…"

"Dusty. I can see that what he is doing is hurting you. It helps him at the expense of yourself." 

Dusty glanced at the direction of Ripslinger's hangar before he looked back at El Chupacabra. "I don't even know why I'm so sad over it." 

"I think it is because you want to actually be friends with him. And you should do that." El Chupacabra advised.

"Easier said than done, El Chu. I don't even know where to start." 

"If you think that your conversation in Germany went better, keep talking to him. He's only ever talked to you since the start of the competition." 

"I'll try, but I'll probably spend tonight talking to my friends in Propwash. What would you say to some cans of oil so I can take my mind off of it?" 

“Dusty, you do know that you have to tackle this problem before it gets worse though, right?” El Chupacabra didn’t want Dusty to put it off. 

Dusty nodded, knowing what El Chupacabra was trying to say. “I know. But not thinking about it for a while will help me.”

El Chupacabra smiled. "Alright. In that case, I will not say no, amigo."

* * *

Dusty sighed as he sat in his hangar, the serene silence of the night when all of the tractors were asleep leaving him to his thoughts. They all centered around Ripslinger, and their "friendship" that he'd have to explain to his friends in Propwash when they radioed. _What mess did I get myself into?_

The radio soon came to life, and he heard Skipper's voice come through. "Propwash Junction to Dusty. Come in, Dusty." Skipper didn’t sound happy, but Dusty knew that this would happen.

The former crop duster gulped before he responded, trying to sound chipper as he stepped on the pedal. "Hey, Skip. What's up?" 

"I'm concerned about what's going on over there. Is it true that you've befriended Ripslinger, Dusty?" 

Dusty was silent for a while as he came to terms with the truth. "…No. It's not." 

"Why would you go through with it? You sound miserable." Dottie asked.

"Look, he's been miserable from the past two years of hatred against him, so I figured that if he pretended to make amends with me, he'd…feel better?" Dusty tried to explain.

"It sounds to me that he's using your kindness to build himself back up again." Skipper remarked, sounding angered. 

"Yes, he is, but he keeps on saying that I was patronizing him by being nice, so I thought by giving him good advice…" Dusty trailed off as he tried to find the right words.

"That he'd hate you less?" Chug guessed.

"Yeah. He keeps on saying there's a reason why he hates me so much but he never explains it."

"Dusty, I would stop worrying about him and start thinking about what's best for you. Dottie's right. You sound miserable." Skipper said.

"So…what should I do? I can't just tell the media that the whole thing was fake, and we still hate each other. Since y'all know about it, it must be everywhere by now!" 

"Then maybe Ripslinger should commit to what he's saying. From what you've said, you want to be actual friends with him, right?" Dottie asked.

"Yeah. I do. It hurt when he complimented me, but he didn't actually mean it. I used to look up to him before I became a racer." 

"Yep. You always talked about him. It hurts, knowing that he takes the fact that you want to give him a second chance for granted." Chug recalled. 

"I don't know, Dusty. This is a tough situation you've put yourself in. All you can do is convince him to go through with making amends. It's about time, anyway." Skipper mused. “Two years, and not even a single apology for what he did.”

“I don’t know what happened during those two years. It must have really embittered him.” Dusty surmised. “Should I just go up to him tonight?”

“Isn’t it late at night where you are?” Chug pointed out.

“I guess it is, and I’m just kind of tired from everything that’s going on. I’ll talk to him in Nepal.” 

“Even with all of this that’s going on, you’re doing very well in the competition. I’m very proud of you, Dusty.” Skipper said, trying to make Dusty feel better. It pained him to hear Dusty so sad.

“Yeah, first place again!” Dottie added. “As you like to say, the Himalayas are little hills in your way.”

“Well, I also got vertical wind shear and turbulence to worry about, but thanks Dottie. I’ll try to stay in first. I’ll talk to y’all when I get to Shanghai.” Dusty said before he hung up with a sigh. He may as well sleep on it, and see what he’d do in the morning about Ripslinger. 

Meanwhile, Ripslinger was celebrating his “redemption” in the public eye. There was a press frenzy which portrayed him as the “reformed bad guy,” and although he objected to being portrayed as a literal monster beforehand, he could only be grateful that he now had some support, as opposed to none.

That is, until some thoughts reared their way into his head, breaking his relatively good mood. He was a pretty astute plane; he had to observe other planes to judge their weaknesses and exploit them to win. Although Dusty seemed outwardly happy, playing along with their charade, he could tell that something was wrong.

After he told Dusty his advice worked, he expected the air racer to have followed him, since Dusty seemed to have taken an odd fascination with him; after all, their long conversation in Germany was proof that Dusty wanted to talk to him. 

However, Dusty didn’t. Although the fact that Dusty was talking to El Chupacabra could be a factor, Dusty still hadn’t come by his hangar, and it was pretty late at night. He didn’t know why he had this preconceived notion that Dusty would try and talk to him at night, but maybe he had just built up that expectation after what happened in Germany.

Dusty certainly didn’t tell him that he would come by, so he had no reason to think that either. Moreover, he should be happy that Dusty wasn’t bothering him with whatever he wanted to talk about or his pity. But why did he feel so…bothered by it? 

He was sure that he hated every second of pretending to be friendly with Dusty in front of the cameras…unless he didn’t. _Wait, no. What am I thinking? The farm boy is the reason why I had to suck up to the press in the first place. Just because his advice worked and he actually helped me doesn’t mean anything._ He told himself.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but then wonder why Dusty didn’t visit him tonight. Was it because they technically already “spoke” in front of the press? Did he say something wrong? Wait. Why was he even worrying about if he said something wrong? He usually wasn’t this self-conscious about what he did. 

He growled as he turned on the speaker, trying to clear his head with music before he went to sleep. It also helped to relax him, which was why he was thankful that he managed to salvage it. He was just tired. That’s why his thoughts were in a mess and he wasn’t acting like his usual confident self. It wasn’t because of the farm boy. 

The music seemed to go in one ear and out of the other, as it didn’t help him keep his mind off of the stupid crop duster. He turned the speaker off and just shut his eyes, determined to not think about Dusty any longer. _Damn you, Crophopper…_ was his last thought before he eventually fell into a tumultuous sleep.


	5. Nepal

Although he didn’t have the best night’s sleep, Ripslinger beat Dusty in the leg to Nepal, as he predicted he would. Flying high, he managed to ride a tailwind which kept him well ahead of Dusty, and he also avoided the worst of the turbulence caused by flying over the Himalayas.

_Finally. First place. Where I belong._ He thought, a smirk on his face as he descended to land on the Nepalese airstrip. With how fast he was going, Dusty had to be at least several seconds behind him, if not more. 

Reporters gathered at the side of the runway when they saw him coming, and Ripslinger knew things were sort of back to normal. He had been made fun of or ignored for the most part, but he could tell just from looking at the reporters as he landed that it was the good kind of attention. The type that he loved to bask in.

Camera flashes greeted him as he taxied off of the runway, and he flashed a grin, posing for the camera. “Get my good side, fellas.” His grin faltered, however, when he glanced behind him and Dusty hadn’t landed yet. _Huh. I thought he would’ve landed by now._ It had been several seconds already. Did Dusty get lost?

However, the reporters soon let him know that Dusty clearly hadn’t gotten lost, as the orange air racer soon came into view, and landed on the tarmac, which caused a flurry of camera flashes in Dusty’s direction. 

When Ripslinger saw that, he went right back to smiling for the camera, but he couldn’t believe that he was affected by something like that in the first place. Was that _concern_ that he felt? _Get a hold of yourself, Ripslinger. You won by so much Crophopper was at least a minute behind._ He told himself.

“Hey, Ripslinger, Dusty! How about a picture together?” One of the reporters asked.

“Yeah, sure, why not? C’mon, Dusty. Get your good side to the cameras.” Ripslinger said, posing while Dusty just looked uncomfortable. He nudged Dusty covertly with a landing gear to stop him from messing up their charade, and Dusty thankfully took the hint. 

Dusty smiled, but anyone who knew him well could tell it was fake. Well, Ripslinger also apparently fell into that group too. _Once we get past the press, I’m going to confront him about it._ He resolved. _Not out of concern, but out of fear that Dusty might ruin our plan._

Soon enough, the press were satiated, and Dusty and Ripslinger headed off, close to where the hangars were. Once they were out of camera and mic range, Ripslinger looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow. “Is there something wrong, Crophopper?” 

Dusty was shocked at that question, not expecting Ripslinger to ask such a thing. Was that…concern? Although he knew what was wrong, he didn’t want to tell Ripslinger in such public circumstances. But if that was genuine concern, maybe he could say “no” truthfully. “What? No. It’s nothing. Are you…concerned about me?” 

“More like concerned about the press. You looked like you didn’t want to be with me for a second there.” 

“Oh.” He should’ve known it was about him not acting enough. He tried to shrug it off to not dwell on it, looking for anything to get him out of the conversation. He soon spotted Bulldog, and he jumped at the opportunity. “I’ll be sure to try harder. Bulldog’s arrived, I’m going to go talk to him. See you!”

With that, Dusty quickly headed back towards where the press were, leaving Ripslinger confused. Suddenly, Dusty seemed to be giving him the cold shoulder. Well, it’s not like they were friends in the first place, but he was convinced that Dusty was actively avoiding him now. And it all started after he put Dusty’s plan into action, which confused him even more.

_I took his advice, but he’s bothered that I did. What’s wrong with him?_ Then Ripslinger found his own thoughts betraying him because why was he so bothered by Dusty trying to avoid him? Isn’t that what he wanted in the first place?

_Well, apparently not…_ Why he was so drawn to his rival he didn't know, but he couldn't lie to himself any longer. He couldn't say that he hated Dusty any more. It's almost like his charade was starting to become reality. _Was it because of what Dusty did for me?_ He idly wondered. 

He also knew that Dusty looked hurt when he deflected the Air Tractor's question of whether he was concerned about him. That was pretty telling as to what Dusty wanted. And no matter how hard he tried, he was starting to lean towards it as well.

_I have to see him tonight to sort what we have out._ He resolved. Last night was already telling, and he hated that he couldn't just change the way he felt. Why couldn't he just hate Dusty like he was supposed to? _Maybe because all he's done is be nice to me._ He answered himself.

This was Dusty's plan all along, wasn't it? That he'd pretend long enough to the point where it became reality. _Even after all of the shit that stupid farm boy put me through, I can't hate him. He practically helped me back up._ He knew for sure that he wouldn't have sucked up to the media like that without Dusty's convincing. 

Oh, and now his mind was telling him to thank Dusty for helping him out. Ripslinger was tired by this point from his mental struggle with his stupid emotions that he had kept sequestered for so long except pride and anger. 

_All I know is that I'm going to end up being the one to visit Dusty. Heh. I can't wait to see the look on his face._ He headed to his hangar, wanting to rest and relax before whatever would happen that night.

* * *

Nightfall had come, and Ripslinger opened his hangar doors, pausing for a while after he exited his hangar and closed the doors behind him so his eyes could get used to the darkness. Nepal's airport in Kathmandu had less lights to guide planes at night on the tarmac, so he had to rely on some natural night vision to make his way to Dusty's hangar.

He slowly made his way past each hangar, looking for the racing number of 7 on the hangar doors of each hangar. It took a while, and he was starting to get impatient and frustrated. _Maybe if we were in a less remote location things wouldn't be so difficult. Whatever. Not going to get anywhere if I complain._

Finally, he came across the right hangar as he squinted, and made out the number 7 on the doors. He didn't hear anything coming from inside, so Dusty obviously wasn't talking to his Propwash friends this particular night. 

The only other thing he could be doing was sleeping, but that was soon disproven because he could see that the lights were on inside through the hangar windows. Perfect. He raised his left wingtip and knocked twice on the hangar doors, waiting for Dusty to respond.

Dusty had been mentally preparing himself to head over to Ripslinger's hangar to talk when he heard a knock at his hangar doors. _Did Ripslinger beat me to it?_ He wondered before he opened the doors, and lo and behold, the Mustang was right there. _Wow. I didn't actually expect him to be there._

Ripslinger wore an amused smirk as Dusty looked at him with a shocked expression, his jaw slack. "Well? Aren't you going to let me in, Crophopper?" 

"Oh! Yeah, of course…" Dusty quickly moved aside to let Ripslinger in before he closed the doors. Ripslinger was the one to visit him this time. Did that mean…?

Well, the hangar was identical to his, save for the absence of a speaker, but he expected that. "I wanted to thank you for, you know, giving me that advice. It's nice when people don't look at you like they want to kill you 24/7." 

Did Ripslinger just thank him? Was he dreaming? What was going on? Well, he certainly wasn't complaining. "Did you just _thank_ me?" 

Ripslinger rolled his eyes. "Yes, I did. You can close your mouth now."

Dusty felt himself blush as he quickly shut his mouth again. He probably looked comically shocked, but could anyone else react in a better way? Ripslinger? Being nice? And there were no cameras around this time. He was well and truly perplexed and confused. "Huh? But why?" 

"Would you rather I didn't?" Ripslinger retorted, to which Dusty panicked.

"No! Of course not! I appreciate it. I'm just…surprised, that's all. You said you weren't concerned about me."

"Well, that was apparently a lie, and life has a funny way of working things out where pretend becomes reality." Wait, did he just say that? Great. Just great. Well…it was the truth, at least. 

Dusty's eyes went wide again as he stared at the P-51. Pretend becomes reality? If Ripslinger meant what he thought he meant, he might pass out right then and there from the shock. "Wait…you want to be friends?" 

"'Want' and 'friends' aren't the right words." Ripslinger sighed, as he tried to put what he wanted to say into actual words. Damn his emotions and his sudden affinity for his so-called rival… "I guess it's because you helped me out. I can't hate you for that. I just can't." 

Dusty's engine fluttered at that, shock being replaced with happiness. "But you don't hate me anymore." He said as if it was a statement, which Ripslinger confirmed.

"If I hated you, I probably wouldn't be here talking to you right now. But I have to ask; why did you even want to talk to me in the first place, and why did you help me? Was it pity, or something else?" 

That was a hard question to answer. Dusty initially thought it was just pity, but from where they were now? Did he just always like the Mustang despite what he did to him? That would explain why he was so melancholy when Ripslinger immediately stopped being friendly when the cameras were off.

"To be honest, it was probably pity at first. After we talked in Germany, though? I think it changed. It became where I wanted to get to know you better." 

"Why me? You literally have all of the other racers to talk to." Ripslinger pointed out.

Dusty hesitated before he answered. _Well, Ripslinger seems receptive now. Now would be the time._ "I wanted to know why you always hated me back then at my first Wings Around The Globe. You were so dead set on sabotaging me, going to great lengths to ensure that I didn't win. Why? I looked up to you before I became a racer." 

Ripslinger’s demeanor immediately changed, and his voice went cold. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve only been in the racing world for two years.”

“So you won’t even bother to explain anything to me? You almost killed me twice! And I’m not even counting the train tunnel!” Dusty pointed out.

That got to Ripslinger, and he flinched back slightly instinctively. _No. I’m not going to get beaten by the stupid farm boy. I’ve been nice enough._ “You’re one to talk. The whole reason why you had a reason to help me in the first place is because _you_ were the cause of my downfall!”

“ _Me?_ I’ve done nothing but be nice to you from the very beginning!” Dusty protested, determined to defend himself. 

“ _You_ were the one who made fun of me at qualifications. _You_ were the one who told me that you’d scatter my debris over a cornfield! _You_ were the one who bribed Ishani to get me to follow railroad tracks. _You_ were the one who cut off my antenna and left me for dead in the Pacific Ocean. And worst of all, _you_ were the one who almost turned me into scrap metal in the Deadstick Desert!”

“If I was such a _monster_ towards you, why didn’t you just finish me off by telling everyone the last part?” Ripslinger muttered. Dusty’s words hurt, but he’d be lying if he said that they weren’t true. He wanted to believe that everything was Dusty’s fault, but the other plane was forcing him to see what was reality. 

“Because even after all that you put me through, I still wanted to give you a second chance.” Dusty said, looking at Ripslinger with tearful eyes. “If I exposed you like that, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation. Back then, I just kind of moved on when you were towed away. I had the racing career I wanted, and I didn’t want to dwell on grudges.”

“You’re so damn _nice_ to me, Crophopper. But I wouldn’t tell you why because it’d sound trivial for all of the things you described.” 

“You’re assuming things that you don’t know unless you try.” Dusty replied, calming down so Ripslinger didn’t feel threatened. He wanted the Mustang to stay, and explain. Maybe he could better understand the checker-marked plane that way.

Ripslinger sighed. Knowing Dusty’s tenacious nature, he wouldn’t back off on the subject either, and he’d have to give in at some point. May as well do it now. “Twelve years ago, I was a nobody. An ordinary P-51 Mustang with a dream of becoming a racer. Like you.”

Dusty listened intently, not wanting to miss a single word of Ripslinger’s story. _He’s actually explaining himself to me._ He thought, in awe and still sort of wondering whether what was happening was really reality. He never thought that Ripslinger would open up.

“When you win your first race, it’s an exhilarating feeling, isn’t it?”

Dusty remembered when he won the 2013 Wings Around The Globe. “Definitely.”

“And then when you keep on winning more and more races, you think it gets better, right?”

“Right.”

“Wrong. It doesn’t.” Ripslinger said, to Dusty’s shocked reaction.

“What? You won Wings Around The Globe three times. I thought that you’d be happy.”

“When I started getting nicknames like the ‘Green Tornado’ and the ‘Prince of Propellers,’ there was extreme pressure to win. When I didn’t win, the press questioned my ability. I was supposed to be the biggest name in air racing because of my skill.”

Ripslinger paused as he tried to think of what to say before he continued. “It’s not just because I’m a sore loser. I thought that my racing career was at stake if I didn’t perform like I was supposed to. When I won my first Wings Around The Globe, it just got worse.” 

Ripslinger then looked at Dusty, sighing. “And then _you_ came in. When I saw you at the qualifications in Lincoln, I saw that same spark I had when I decided I wanted to race. The other racers were determined, yes, but I just sensed that you wanted to race the most. I mean, you were the only crop duster there. Everyone else was built for racing.”

“I was relieved when Fonzarelli beat you. Until he was disqualified because he used nitromethane. When you said that I was afraid of getting beat by a crop duster? You were right. So I did anything and everything in my power to ensure that you didn’t win.”

“So you thought trying to kill me was okay?” Dusty muttered.

“I didn’t want to kill you!” Ripslinger tried to explain. “The only thing going through my head was to stop you from cutting the ribbon before I did. And all of the cruel comments I made? They were to make me feel more confident that I would win. I know it’s a horrible way of coping, but that’s why I always soak up the attention from the press. I don’t know when it’s going to end and they turn on me.”

“Then, of course, the nickname ‘Ripstinker’ came, and I was antagonized by everyone. I guess it was deserved, but…” Ripslinger sniffled. _Damn it, Ripslinger, don’t cry. Get a hold of yourself!_ “You don’t know how _brutal_ it was, coupled with losing almost everything I knew! I…I felt like I meant _nothing_ to anyone anymore! I-It took everything…just to come back…” 

The tears freely flowed, now that Ripslinger had let go of his inhibitions. He was furious that he had broken down in front of Dusty, and embarrassed that he was crying openly. No one had seen him cry until now. He was supposed to be the confident champion who never doubted himself. Now what did Dusty see?

Dusty saw someone who had finally lifted the facade he had been showing the world, and he saw the real Ripslinger. He didn’t expect Ripslinger to cry like that, but he knew that what he had gone through must’ve been excruciating for him to openly cry in front of him. His look of shock turned into one of sadness. He could feel the Mustang’s pain just though his erratic sobs.

Ripslinger tried to get a hold of himself before he embarrassed himself any further, until he suddenly felt Dusty hugging him. Dusty came up silently and rested his head near his right intakes, embracing him gently with his landing gear as their wings touched. He slowly started to calm down as Dusty continued to hold him, feeling Dusty’s warmth against his tear-stained face.

Dusty sighed into the embrace. He knew he had to do something to comfort Ripslinger as he cried, and he knew hugging never failed to help someone calm down. He never let go as Ripslinger’s sobs turned into sniffles and occasional hitches in his breathing. Ripslinger was warm as well, and he liked the closeness he had with his rival…no, former rival.

“I-I’m sorry…for everything…” Ripslinger managed to get out, in his fragile mental state. He didn’t even question what he was compelled to do anymore. He just did it, and it was like a weight was lifted off of his wings when he apologized. _Damn…that was tiring…_ He thought as his breathing slowed to a regular rhythm.

Dusty’s eyes widened as he heard Ripslinger apologize, but he didn’t hesitate to respond. “I forgive you, Rip.” He didn’t even know why he was so eager to forgive Ripslinger; he had just pointed out that the same aircraft he was hugging tried to kill him. But at the same time, Ripslinger told him he never meant for Dusty to die; it was the dangers of a one track mind.

Ripslinger felt a wave of relief when Dusty forgave him, but it took a lot of his mental willpower to even register it because he was very tired after explaining _everything_ to Dusty and then breaking down afterwards. “Thanks…” He just wanted to sleep…and he was going to do it. It was very easy to do, anyway. Dusty was so warm…

Dusty realized that Ripslinger had fallen asleep after he thanked him, since Ripslinger’s breathing slowed and he didn’t move from his embrace while his eyes were shut. _Not a bad idea…_ He thought, as he shut his eyes and fell asleep to Ripslinger’s company and warmth.


	6. Shanghai

Light flooded the interior of Dusty Crophopper’s hangar as day broke, shining on the two still asleep planes inside. Finally, the sunlight shone directly on Dusty’s face, which eventually woke the former crop duster up. He yawned groggily, slowly opening his eyes as he rested on Ripslinger’s wing. Wait, Ripslinger’s wing?

That fully woke Dusty up immediately, as he initially hadn’t recalled what had happened between the two last night, until it all came back to him. _I can’t believe that wasn’t a dream._ He mused, as he tried to move but realized that he couldn’t because Ripslinger’s head was on his right wing as he slept. 

Dusty felt a blush coming on as Ripslinger snored lightly next to him. The position they were in…it almost looked like they were cuddling. It was definitely a stark contrast to the hostility between the two only several days ago. 

The fact that Ripslinger trusted him enough to pour out the truth made him blush even more. So were they now friends? Ripslinger had never confirmed that, but from the events of last night, Dusty knew that Ripslinger definitely didn’t hate him anymore. He remembered vividly that the P-51 didn’t pull away when he hugged him.

Ripslinger then began to stir, probably due to the light illuminating the hangar and Dusty trying to move. “Mh…” It was a meaningless sound that Ripslinger made as he slowly woke up, cracking open his eyes. He was met with Dusty’s wing and tail, and he immediately remembered what had happened the night prior. 

“…What time is it, Crophopper?” He asked, as he slowly got off of Dusty to look at him, still a bit drowsy. He wasn’t a morning plane. 

“Uh…” Dusty quickly looked at the wall clock. “8:45.”

Ripslinger immediately woke up at that, wide-eyed. “8:45!?!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Dusty asked, still not fully awake so he had no idea of the significance of that time.

“The race starts at 9! We should be out on the tarmac already!”

Dusty then remembered that that was a thing. “Oh Chrysler…”

“What I told you last night? Not. A. Word.” Ripslinger told Dusty as he made his way over to the hangar doors to open them.

Dusty nodded. Ripslinger entrusted him with that information. He wasn’t going to break that trust by sharing it with anyone else if Ripslinger didn’t want it outside the two of them. 

Ripslinger opened Dusty’s hangar doors…only to be greeted by camera flashes and reporters galore. 

_Oh crap._ Both Ripslinger and Dusty thought.

"Ripslinger, why were you in Dusty's hangar?"

"Did you two sleep together?" 

"Why were you not in your hangar, Ripslinger?" 

Dusty was mortified by the questions, while Ripslinger's temper was set off. Did they _sleep_ together? Why couldn't the press just mind their own business? "We were talking last night, and I was too lazy to go back to my hangar. End of story! Get out of the way!"

Ripslinger pushed his way through, intimidating anyone in his way while Dusty meekly followed, just trying to get in position on the tarmac so they could start the race. He didn't want to know what the media was cooking up…

El Chupacabra looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow as the orange air racer parked next to him on the runway. "Dusty? Are you and Ripslinger, you know…?"

"No! Chrysler no, El Chu. Our relationship is for the better but not like _that._ Why were the reporters even gathered around my hangar?"

"Well, most of us were up by eight this morning, and you and Ripslinger were nowhere to be found by 8:30. Ripslinger's hangar was empty and…I guess they assumed that you and Ripslinger were sharing a hangar." 

"Ugh…" Dusty groaned. "To be clear, we are _friends._ Don't friends have sleepovers?" 

"So you and Ripslinger had a _sleepover?_ " 

"No! As Rip said, we talked until it was late at night and he was too lazy to go back to his hangar." Dusty reiterated. Well, it was a half truth, but he couldn't go into specifics.

"You'd better make that clear when we land in Shanghai, my friend." El Chupacabra advised, just as the green flag was waved.

Dusty sighed as he took off for Shanghai with the other racers, Ripslinger still ahead of him. It was a pretty long flight to Shanghai; he didn't even want to think about what he would come back down to several hours later.

* * *

Dusty managed to pull ahead of Ripslinger during the flight to Shanghai using his characteristic flying style of low and quick, but Ripslinger didn't fall behind by that much throughout the entire flight. It was a close race so far between the two planes. 

Ripslinger would probably have the advantage on the long leg from Shanghai to Mexico City, so it would all come down to the leg from Mexico City to New York, similar to last time. _It'll be different this time, though, in more ways than one._ Dusty thought, as he neared Shanghai Pudong Airport.

He landed first, officially putting him in first place, but Ripslinger landed only seconds behind him. He had definitely trained during the two years he fell off of the radar. But Dusty now knew why he would; he was trying to prove himself once again to the world. 

Dusty didn't have any time to think any more, as reporters were, once again, stationed by the runway for the racers that were arriving. He braced himself for whatever the tabloids had made up during their time in the air.

"Dusty, is it true that nothing went down between you and Ripslinger?" 

Well, that was a euphemistic way to put it. "Yes! Rip just felt tired and decided that he didn't want to drive back to his hangar! How many times do I have to say this?" 

"So you two are just friends?" 

Dusty was getting exasperated. "Yes! I don't know how any of this could come about since we just made up not too long ago."

Ripslinger wasn't having a better time either, except he didn't entertain the media at the first mention of his supposed "relationship" with Dusty, instead promptly driving off. He wanted to be in the good spotlight again, but he was getting more than he needed. 

Dusty finally managed to get away, celebrity status still being a bit foreign to him even after two years. He took it humbly, but being in the spotlight and getting asked many questions about the same thing was taxing. 

Ripslinger looked at him with an amused smirk. "I can't believe you actually humored them." 

Dusty huffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, someone has to tell them straight up that we're not a secret affair that's been going on for two _years._ " 

Ripslinger raised an eyebrow at that. Seriously? "You've got to be kidding me." 

"No! I'm not! I've managed to go scandal-free until now…" 

"Join the scandal club. If you have a racing career for long enough, it's bound to happen. Still, doesn't make it any less infuriating…" 

"Tell me about it. Hey, I'm probably going to be busy tonight because I'll be radioing my friends in Propwash. I'll have to tell them for the hundredth time today that there's nothing going on between us that's…you know…" Dusty would leave what he was saying implied.

"That we're not a couple. You can say it, Crophopper." Ripslinger said, not finding it awkward to say stuff like that. "How about I talk to them with you? I've seen them, but I've never talked to them." 

Dusty thought back to when Skipper saved him in the Deadstick Desert, so Ripslinger had technically interacted with one of his friends in Propwash, but he figured that it'd be best if he didn't bring that up. "Oh, sure. That sounds good. I'm probably going to radio them at around nine tonight so it'll be a decent time in the morning." 

"You don't sound that enthusiastic about me joining you." Ripslinger pointed out, his demeanor changing to one that was tinged with a mixture of annoyance and…sadness? At least that's what Dusty saw.

Dusty quickly tried to explain that it was nothing against Ripslinger personally. "No, I like your company! It's just…I don't know how my friends are going to react. They don't know that you apologized and everything surrounding it. Including why you did what you did." 

Oh, right. "Well, I can just explain to them what happened over the radio, can't I?" Ripslinger pointed out, not getting what the big deal was. 

"You're willing to tell them what you told me in Nepal?" Dusty inquired.

"Oh." That's what Dusty meant. "No. I'm not ready for that. I don't know why, but…I only trust you for now with that. I was just going to explain that we made up." 

"Hey, don't worry." Dusty said, trying to reassure the Mustang. "You can just reaffirm that we're not a couple. They're probably worried sick from what's been circulating on RSN." 

Ripslinger nodded. "Yeah, alright. That sounds good. I'll come around at nine." 

"Okay, I'll see you then." 

"See you." 

Ripslinger drove off, as Dusty thought about how he'd go about breaking that Ripslinger was with him when he radioed his friends in Propwash. _Skipper will probably be the most angry at Ripslinger._ He thought. All he could do was play by ear when he radioed them, and hope that they could see that he was happier than last time.

* * *

Just like Ripslinger said, he arrived at Dusty's hangar around nine, and he knocked at the hangar doors. He still kept that confident air he usually had about him. He vaguely remembered the two forklifts and the fuel truck, but he remembered Dusty's mentor, Skipper, pretty well, because of Deadstick Desert.

He sighed, knowing that he would have to explain himself at some point. But he didn't need everyone knowing that all of the shit he put Dusty through was basically because he felt threatened. He would have to prove that he was trying to be better before they would accept that explanation. 

Dusty opened the doors and quickly let Ripslinger inside, closing the doors before someone spotted Ripslinger and got the wrong ideas. "You ready?" He inquired.

Ripslinger shrugged. "Trust me. If they hate me at first, it's nothing that I haven't already suffered through." 

"When they see that I'm happy, they'll warm up to you." Dusty asserted, before he stepped on the pedal for the radio. "This is Dusty Crophopper to Propwash Junction." 

"Hey, Dusty. Um…have you seen the news lately?" Sparky's voice came in through the radio.

 _Huh. I thought Skipper would be the first to respond._ Dusty thought. "Yeah, Sparky. All of that? Not true, alright? Rip and I are just friends." 

“Oh, good! Yeah…Skip went to go fetch the others but he was pretty concerned when that came out. Not that any of us thought that was true!” Sparky explained.

Dusty laughed nervously. “Yeah, yeah, no. It’d be best if you assume anything reported about Rip and I as not true until I confirm it.” He said, to which Ripslinger snorted in contempt towards the tabloids.

“Well, I have to say, Dusty, seeing that almost gave me an engine attack when I woke up this morning and read the newspaper.” Skipper said, having entered his hangar with Chug and Dottie.

“Yeah, I can only imagine…” Dusty said, before he thought about how to introduce Ripslinger, who had been silent until now (besides the snort) and was looking at him expectantly. “I actually have Ripslinger with me right now. He can testify that we’re just friends.”

“You _do?_ ” Chug asked, unsure if Dusty was kidding or not. Ripslinger really made amends over the two days they had talked to Dusty last?

"I'm right here. Hey." Ripslinger spoke up, his tone neutral as he waited for the response from Dusty's friends. 

There was silence on the other side as Dusty shifted awkwardly on his landing gear, wondering what the expressions on his friends' faces were and what they were doing, until Dottie finally spoke up. "…So you're actually friends with Dusty?" 

"Yes. I apologized for what I did and he forgave me. I'm…trying to be better." Ripslinger said, his voice losing some of its innate confidence as he tried to explain what happened without revealing too much. He would have to see Dusty's friends in person to gain that sense of trust he had in Dusty.

"And you're happy, Dusty?" Chug asked.

"Definitely, since we're now real friends after making amends in Nepal." Dusty confirmed. He hoped that Ripslinger would agree to explain everything to his friends at some point. He was trying to avoid explaining if possible.

"Well…" Skipper sounded unsure. Dusty sounded happy, but the whole thing just sounded too simple. Dusty accepted Ripslinger's apology? There must've been a good reason. "As long as you're happy. If I see a single dent on him caused by you, Ripslinger, you'll be sorry." The Corsair threatened, being protective of Dusty as his mentor.

Dusty laughed nervously, trying to defuse the situation. He knew that Ripslinger had a short fuse, and he was afraid that Skipper had ignited it, no matter how well-meaning he was. To his surprise, Ripslinger just seemed to brush it off. "I'll count on it…" He simply replied, his expression unreadable.

"So…Dusty! First place again! We're proud of you over here." Dottie said, changing the subject, to Dusty's relief.

"Well, Rip here managed to beat me over the Himalayas. Guess they're not little hills like I said they were." Dusty humbly replied.

"Of course they're not little hills, Dusty! They're a whole mountain range!" Chug pointed out.

Dusty deadpanned, while Ripslinger couldn't help but smile a bit in amusement. "I know that Chug. Thanks…" 

"For a small plane, Crophopper handled the vertical wind shear pretty well." Ripslinger complimented, to Dusty's shock and then pure joy as a grin came upon his face.

 _Ripslinger complimented me?_ Dusty thought, as he looked at Ripslinger happily. "Thanks, Rip!" 

Dusty's friends in Propwash shared a similar disbelief, before Skipper piped up. "That was nice of you, Ripslinger." His tone was pretty unreadable through the radio, but he seemed to show genuine appreciation for the P-51's efforts to be nicer.

Ripslinger just let out a snort at that, finding the whole situation just a _little_ too sappy. At least they could hear that he had changed, being willing to offer compliments to others. 

"Anyway, it's probably going to come down to the leg from Mexico City to New York like last time. Flying over oceans is Rip's strength." Dusty said.

"Well, just know that we're rooting for you over here. The Pacific Ocean is nothing to you!" Dottie asserted.

"Thought the advice I've given you before still stands. Be careful out there. The Pacific can create serious monsoons in a short period of time." Skipper advised.

"Yeah, thanks, Skip. Anyway, I better head off. It's getting late over here and I'll need the most sleep for the longest leg of the race."

"Of course! The next time we'll talk is when you cut the ribbon first in New York. We'll be there!" Chug promised.

"Heh, or if Ripslinger cuts the ribbon first. It all depends…" Dusty added, knowing Ripslinger was literally right next to him, and since they were on friendlier terms now, they could take each other's defeat gracefully if it came to that.

"…Right. See you, Dusty. And Ripslinger." Skipper said, before he hung up.

"Well, that was an ambivalent reception." Ripslinger muttered.

Dusty sighed. Ripslinger didn't look happy, but he could understand why that would be the case. "Yeah…they just need to see you in person to see how you've changed. You can understand that, right?" 

"I guess. Your mentor seems very protective of you." Ripslinger remarked.

"He's a retired Jolly Wrench. He's used to, you know, conflict. He just wants the best for me, and I appreciate that." Dusty tried to explain.

"I know. Well, I'd better get going before we have a repeat of Nepal. Wouldn't want that, now would we?" Ripslinger said, a slight smirk on his face.

"No we would not." Dusty agreed, laughing a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Hopefully we won't oversleep this time." 

"Oh, I'll make sure I won't. Not after that fiasco." Ripslinger said as he left, Dusty closing the hangar doors as he watched the Mustang return to his own hangar for the night. He couldn't stop thinking about how Ripslinger had complimented him. _Was that to suck up to my friends, or was it genuine?_ He wondered, as he closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep.


	7. Mexico City

Ripslinger flew high above the Pacific Ocean, easily riding on the jet stream while Dusty tried to do the same thing. However, Ripslinger managed to stay ahead of Dusty without having any evasive maneuvers from uneven terrain holding him back. 

The vast expanse of the ocean and his ability to take advantage of speed while flying in a straight line helped the P-51 immensely, and he was ahead of Dusty by quite a bit, even as his endurance started to wane by the end of the longest leg of the race.

He knew that he would have to work on agility for the next Wings Around The Globe, but for now, he was doing pretty well, and maybe, just maybe, he’d win the last leg from Mexico City back to New York.

A smirk was on his face as he crossed the Mexican coast, and soon touched down at Mexico City. Like always, there were reporters off of the runway, but they thankfully kept the questions mainly focused on the actual race. Usually, they took this opportunity to ask racers how they felt before the final leg or something like that.

 _Seems like our efforts paid off._ Ripslinger thought, in regard to them denying that anything had gone down between the two and that they were a couple. He still thought it ridiculous that they could cook up something like that from one instance.

He grinned as he smiled for the camera after he landed, getting some vanity shots on the ground before there'd be many taken of him midair just before the finish line. His expression would be contorted into one of determination there, so he'd get the ones that made him look good out of the way in Mexico City.

Dusty landed almost a full minute after Ripslinger did, in a similar mindset of being thankful that the Nepal scandal seemed to have blown over…for now. He smiled as he answered more questions from reporters; this'd be the last time during the race that he'd have to do so, which he was grateful for.

"Dusty, do you think that you can beat Ripslinger on the final leg of this competition?"

Dusty laughed the question off. Two years ago, he would've responded with a confident "yes," but since they were now on friendly terms he decided to go with a more humble answer. "Well, we've never actually competed against each other on fair terms before, so I don't know. Of course, I hope I win, but Rip could win as well." 

Ripslinger gave a similar answer to another group of reporters, albeit a little more tinged in his favor. "We've both trained hard for this competition. Maybe me a bit _more_ so, but it's anyone's guess. Just know that you guys aren't going to get a perfect picture of my good side when I cross the finish line courtesy of me this time." 

"Despite losing this leg, do you still feel confident in your flying style of low and quick to lead you to victory?" Another reporter asked Dusty.

"Yeah! No reason why I wouldn't be. Each racer has their own weaknesses and strengths, and I'm no exception. I do best when agility is required; Rip does best when speed is required. The leg from Mexico City to New York is a happy medium, so I guess there's no clear favored winner." 

Dusty didn't actually get to meet up with Ripslinger after they were done with the media, since some of the racers actually came up to talk to Ripslinger when they saw that he was being nicer. The P-51 wasn't used to talking casually to the other racers, so he initially came off as aloof and awkward, but he soon warmed up and was now chatting with Rochelle.

El Chupacabra wasn't pleased, to say the least. Dusty chuckled as he watched his friend not so subtly glaring at Ripslinger as he talked with Rochelle. "El Chu, he knows you're with her." He said, before taking a sip from his can of oil.

"I suppose you're right. But it is Ripslinger; I cannot help but be suspicious." 

Dusty raised an eyebrow at that. "You literally asked me in Nepal if Ripslinger and I were together. I don't get you. Besides, he's turning over a new leaf. You know that." 

"But you said that you and Ripslinger being a couple was false!" El Chupacabra pointed out.

"Yes, it is! I know it's Ripslinger and you don't know him like I do, but you've been with Rochelle for two years. He wouldn't do that to you, and she especially wouldn't." Dusty reassured the Mexican air racer.

El Chupacabra seemed to brighten up at that. "Thank you, Dusty. You never fail to make anyone feel better."

Dusty waved a landing gear tire dismissively. "Anything for a friend." 

"So, I assume that things are going well between you and Ripslinger? You seem happier than you were in India." El Chupacabra remarked, changing the subject.

Dusty nodded. "Yeah, they are! We've been hanging out more, and he actually talked to my friends back in Propwash when I radioed them." 

"Oh? How did that go?" El Chupacabra asked.

Dusty shrugged. "Well…as Ripslinger said, it was a pretty ambivalent reaction. I think Sparky, Chug, and Dottie are all okay with him because I'm happy, but Skipper's a bit wary of him still. Not that I blame him for that. I'm surprised that even I forgave Rip so easily, but I know that I don't regret it. Seeing him being more sociable makes me happy."

"As your mentor, I would expect him to be protective of you, which is why he is wary of Ripslinger. You also told me that Ripslinger cut off part of his tail, right?"

"Yeah…I try not to bring up what happened in Deadstick Desert. Ripslinger was genuinely remorseful about that when he apologized." Dusty explained. 

"Of course. Perhaps when Skipper sees him in person, he will warm up to him." 

Dusty shook his head. If only things were that easy… "I don't think that's going to happen. Just seeing Ripslinger being nice once isn't going to change his opinion so quickly. He would know that it takes time to change." 

"Oh, so Skipper has to see Ripslinger over a period of time, and gain trust in him?" El Chupacabra asked.

"Yeah. But how am I going to do that? The race is almost over! I didn't think about that!" Dusty soon realized, sounding a bit panicked. "I feel like I've just gotten to know Rip."

"I wish I knew, compadre, but that's a hard question to ask. We keep in touch over the radio, though." 

"We do, but Skipper isn't going to warm up to Rip just from listening in to radio conversations. He needs to…" A figurative light bulb then went off in his head. "I've got it!" Dusty exclaimed, though not too loud to avoid drawing attention to himself. 

"What is it?" El Chupacabra inquired.

"I'm going to invite Rip to stay with me in Propwash Junction for a few months. Like a vacation! He can experience the slow life. RPX headquarters are in Los Angeles, right? He's probably never been to the countryside." 

El Chupacabra's eyes widened at that. "Dusty, I don't think Ripslinger ever really takes a break. He trains constantly during the off season to ensure that he is still the biggest name in air racing. At least that's what I've heard." 

"Even more reason why he'd need the break, El Chu. I can't imagine twelve years without taking a break. Everyone needs a vacation at some point." 

"I suppose that makes sense. It wouldn't hurt to ask him." 

"Yeah. I'll definitely offer for him to stay in Propwash for a few months." Dusty asserted.

"What about your friends, though? If they're not very fond of Ripslinger, they wouldn't like the idea of him staying in Propwash." El Chupacabra pointed out.

"Oh. You're right. Well…I guess tonight I could try and get Rip to agree, then when we arrive in New York where my friends will be I can pose the question to them. We have a spare hangar near the end of the runway, so that shouldn't be an issue." 

"Ah, in that case, I think you're all set, Dusty!" 

Dusty grinned as he thought about it. Getting to introduce Ripslinger to the slow life and hanging out with him to get to know him better sounded great. He just hoped that Ripslinger would even take him up on the offer.

* * *

Night had come, and Dusty slowly opened his hangar doors to not make too much noise, exiting his hangar and closing them again to head to Ripslinger's hangar. Of course, it was going to be a challenge to find Ripslinger's hangar again since a different airport meant a different layout, but Dusty would manage.

The airport lights illuminated the tarmac, allowing Dusty to make his way past the rows of aircraft hangars, once again looking for the number 13 on a pair of hangar doors. Eventually, he found it, and he knocked with a wingtip, significantly less anxious than he was the first time he decided to visit Ripslinger's hangar. 

Ripslinger didn’t hesitate to open since he assumed that it was Dusty; who else would visit him at night? His assumption was proven to be correct when he opened the hangar doors to reveal the orange air racer, and he moved out of the way to let Dusty in before he closed the doors. 

“I’m looking forward to the race tomorrow. Then we can truly see who's the best racer.” The Mustang said with a slight smirk.

“Yeah, I got constantly asked by reporters about that. We both have our strengths, right? So the leg to New York isn’t _really_ favoring me or you.”

Ripslinger rolled his eyes at that. “I like to think that I have the advantage just from experience. Don’t get too sure of yourself.”

Dusty just laughed it off. “Oh, I won’t, as long as you do the same.”

Ripslinger envied Dusty’s seemingly innate confidence. To others, he might seem to be the more confident of the two, but it was just a facade that crumbled during the 2013 WATG and the aftermath. _No use thinking about that now, though._ He thought. 

“You’re going to have to find another way of overtaking me before the finish line. Just because we’ve made amends doesn’t mean that I’m not a sore loser.”

“Uh…I’ll think of one. At some point.” Dusty replied, not so confident in that. He was just hoping that he would be able to take the lead early, so he didn’t have to try and overtake in the narrow stretch before the finish line with the ribbon.

“Riiight.” Ripslinger replied, that smirk always on his face. He still didn’t fully know why he felt more carefree around Dusty, but he felt a sense of contentment being with him. Something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

“ _Anyway…_ ” Dusty started, changing the subject before Ripslinger could taunt him any further. But he could tell that it was different this time. It was more…playful. Yeah. That was the word. “I wanted to know if you’d stay with me for a few months in Propwash. We have a spare hangar there, so that wouldn’t be an issue.”

Ripslinger cocked an eyebrow at that. Well that was an…interesting proposition, to say the least. “I was planning to head back to L.A. to get Team RPX back on track. Besides, I don’t think your friends would be overjoyed with me being around.”

“I was thinking of it as a sort of vacation for you. You know, get to see the slow life. In regard to my friends, I think if you stayed for a while they could truly see that you’ve changed. I was going to explain that to them as well.”

Ripslinger still wasn’t that convinced. It wouldn’t really even be a vacation since there was probably nothing to do in Propwash Junction. “Although I’d love to take a vacation, Crophopper, Team RPX isn’t going to rebuild itself.” 

“Uh…” Dusty tried to think of something that would persuade Ripslinger to take him up on his offer. He wanted to get to know the Mustang better; they had only just become friends. “Maybe we could train together as well, for the next Wings Around The Globe.”

 _That_ seemed to get Ripslinger’s attention. “Train? With you?”

“Yeah! We could race each other to improve ourselves. Propwash is surrounded by mountains, we can practice with rugged terrain as well!”

 _So that’s why Dusty is better with rugged terrain than I am and more agile._ Ripslinger thought. Well, this was an opportunity that he couldn’t pass up, and he also got the added bonus of hanging out with Dusty and hopefully Dusty’s friends warming up to him. 

“How about this: I’ll head back to L.A. for a week to get what I need to do done, then I’ll head over to Propwash. Sounds good to you?” Ripslinger inquired.

Dusty was practically overjoyed that Ripslinger was agreeing to hang out with him in Propwash. Of course, it seemed mostly just for the training since the P-51 wasn’t that interested beforehand, but he was still happy. “Of course! I can’t wait to show you what Propwash has to offer!”

Ripslinger just sighed at Dusty’s sudden joy, but he couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. Dusty’s happiness was infectious. “You’re strange, you know that?”

Dusty looked at Ripslinger with a raised eyebrow. "What? Is being nice strange?" 

"I mean, you're so happy that I agreed to stay with you for a while." 

"Rip, I know you've changed for the better. We just have to convince my friends the same thing, and you being around and nice instead of working in Los Angeles is how we're going to do it." Dusty explained.

"Well, I'm also expecting to get some training in, too." Ripslinger reminded Dusty. "The Prince of Propellers isn't going to stay the prince for much longer if he sits on his tires." 

Dusty nodded in agreement. "I'll gladly train with you as well!" Maybe, and emphasis on the maybe, when Skipper warmed up to Rip, he could both give them pointers. That'd be the ultimate training. Of course, it was wishful thinking, but Dusty was always optimistic.

"I'm looking forward to it." Ripslinger said, before he glanced at a clock on the hangar wall. "It's late; we should sleep so we can be at our best for the last leg tomorrow." 

"Alright, good night, Rip." 

"Good night."

Dusty grinned as he left Ripslinger's hangar for his own, happy that the Mustang was actually willing to spend his time in Propwash. He hoped that the training would be enough incentive to keep him there; he wanted to get to know Ripslinger better. The time Wings Around the Globe gave him was simply not enough.


	8. The Offer to Ripslinger

The leg to New York from Mexico City was close; when Dusty and Ripslinger flew over the Deadstick Desert, Dusty immediately was able to take the lead as he maneuvered around various rock formations, but once they made it to the Appalachian Mountains, Ripslinger took the lead as he flew high and fast, Dusty still struggling with vertical wind shear.

It was a similar set up as the Himalayas, and Ripslinger smirked as they approached JFK airport from the water. Dusty was close behind him, but all he had to do was maintain his lead, and he'd be golden. He lowered his landing gear at the last possible moment to avoid drag slowing him down, and he looked like he was going to win.

That is, until Dusty came swooping down from a higher altitude, giving him the boost of speed that he needed to win against Ripslinger. He overtook Ripslinger just as they neared the runway, and he managed to stay slightly ahead of him, successfully cutting the ribbon first. 

Cheers erupted from the crowd of adoring fans filling the bleachers, as Dusty's win was confirmed on the giant screen set up. Ripslinger couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at that; he was still naturally a sore loser. But he also knew that Dusty had won, fair and square, and he had to come to terms with that.

He had a neutral expression on his face as he landed behind Dusty, watching the reporters hound him to ask him questions about his third Wings Around The Globe win. _That means that I'm now tied with him for the most Wings Around The Globe wins._ He thought. No matter; training like how Dusty did would certainly help him next racing season.

He saw Dusty's friends in person as they crowded around him, congratulating him on the win amidst the reporters who were all fighting for Dusty's attention. Yet here he was, left alone. Again. He was about to turn around to avoid reporters trying to ask him how he felt with defeat, when Dusty saw him and beckoned him over with a landing gear.

Ripslinger raised an eyebrow, unsure as to what Dusty was doing, but he headed over anyway. Dusty held up a landing gear tire for a tire five, looking at him expectantly. The Mustang hesitantly bumped Dusty's tire in a tire five, and the press immediately went wild, taking pictures.

"So no hard feelings between you and Dusty?" A reporter asked Ripslinger, and then he knew what Dusty was doing. He glanced at Dusty, and the orange air racer just gave him a wink.

"Nope. Just means that I'll have to train harder next time." Ripslinger replied coolly. _He’s trying to help me get even better press. Smart._

Ripslinger immediately recognized Skipper, who looked at him with obvious distrust, his expression a suspicious glare as their eyes met. Chug, Dottie, and Sparky also seemed slightly wary, but when they saw how Dusty interacted with the P-51, they eased up slightly.

The Mustang was not one to be intimidated; he was going to glare right back at Skipper, but he was soon preoccupied as more reporters asked him questions, taking the opportunity to ask Dusty as well since they were right next to each other.

“Dusty, do you think that you will be the new Wings Around The Globe champion?”

Ripslinger didn’t look particularly thrilled by that question, but Dusty quickly answered it respectfully. He knew that the reporter didn’t mean it, but it still sounded like they wanted to pit him against Ripslinger. The media was weird…very fickle.

“Rip actually kept the lead over most of the Appalachians; it took a lot for me to beat him, and it wasn’t by much.” Dusty humbly said, to which Ripslinger perked up a bit.

“Well, Dusty’s also a smart plane to think of using gravity to overtake me. I’ve gotta take everything into account on the finishing stretch because that’s when he likes to sneak up on me.” He smirked as he looked at Dusty. He figured that he may as well return the favor.

Dusty grinned at the compliment, happy that Ripslinger appreciated his attempt to keep things civil. He’d break the news to his friends when the reporters eventually moved on; he didn’t need reporters knowing that Ripslinger would be in Propwash, because they would probably never leave them alone.

Meanwhile, Skipper looked on, not sure of what to make of the situation. Ripslinger was good at keeping up appearances; it was a given that he’d act nice in front of the cameras. The only way that he could see the P-51’s true colors was when the reporters moved on, where he wouldn’t feel the need to keep up good public opinion.

Dusty, although he respected the former crop duster very much, was also pretty naive. He felt the need to protect Dusty from falling into another trap like listening to bad advice, and his old age gave him the experience that would help in that regard. Although he only flew one mission, that didn’t mean that he didn’t have experience from his time at Coronado.

“Anyway, you guys saw how close today’s race was. Rip’s not called the Green Tornado for nothing, and I’m…well, I don’t have a cool racing name for me yet, but I’ll think of one. Anyway, next year, both of us will be faster, so it’s still very close. Or, who knows? Maybe El Chu or Ishani might win.” Dusty said.

“Yeah. The legs of the race are so wildly different from each other to make the race appeal to each plane’s strengths. If someone’s a real good all-rounder, they have the best chances.” Ripslinger agreed.

“So who do you think is the best all-rounder, Ripslinger?” 

Ripslinger was taken aback by the question for a split second, before he just rolled his eyes with a resigned sigh. Why did _he_ get these types of questions? "Well, it was obviously Dusty this time around." 

Eventually, the reporters finished with Dusty and Ripslinger, and went on to interview El Chupacabra, who came in third. Dusty sighed in relief, glad that he now was able to talk to his friends freely, along with Ripslinger. 

Dusty was going to let Ripslinger say it, but after a short period of awkward silence he quickly talked, after the Mustang looked at him with a raised eyebrow, obviously expecting him to do the talking. He could also practically feel the tension between Ripslinger and Skipper, and he hoped to break that by distracting from it.

"So…how long were you guys waiting for me? Must've been a while with how many fans were packed into the stands, heh…"

Chug practically jumped at the opportunity to break the awkwardness of the situation. "For several hours! You don't know how early we had to get here to get a good seat to see you cut the ribbon. But it was worth it when I heard you and Ripslinger coming!" 

"Easy for you to say. My ears are still ringing from how loud the crowd got when they heard and saw you two." Dottie muttered.

"Well, I did manage to entertain you guys with stories of Skip and I when we were stationed in Coronado! Actually, I can tell ano-" Sparky was cut off by Skipper, who was still preoccupied with Ripslinger's presence. 

"So, Ripslinger. I see that you've been getting along with Dusty." He started, eyeing the Mustang carefully.

Ripslinger had stayed silent throughout Dusty making small talk with his friends, quickly losing interest and wanting Dusty to get to the point. That is, until Skipper, Dusty's mentor, addressed him directly. He knew that he was constantly under the older plane's gaze, but he had decided to ignore it until now.

"Yeah. I have. Ever since Nepal." He stated, echoing what Dusty said earlier when he joined Dusty's radio call with his friends in Shanghai. 

Dusty realized that it was probably now or never to tell his friends what he had offered Ripslinger. It'd probably be better if they heard it from him, anyway. Stopping any kind of confrontation between Skipper and Ripslinger was also paramount.

"Since I'm now on good terms with Rip, I actually offered for him to stay in the spare hangar back at Propwash for a few months, as a kind of vacation. We were also going to train together for next racing season, if that's okay with y'all." 

"Train together?" Skipper asked with a raised eyebrow, obviously against the idea. "Is my training not enough for you?" 

"No, no!" Dusty quickly clarified. "It just…um…" Damn it, now wasn't the time to falter with words. "It'd help both of us, and since we have mountains nearby Propwash, Rip could improve his agility while I could learn how to deal with vertical wind shear. Besides, it'd allow you guys to get to know him like I do." 

Dusty knew that Chug, Sparky, and Dottie would be easier to persuade, but Skipper was naturally afraid of anything adverse happening to him, being his mentor. He could understand that, considering Skipper probably hadn't forgotten what Ripslinger did to him to prevent him from winning, but he was sure that he knew what he was doing.

"Uh…well, since you're friends with Rip, that sounds fine! Would probably bring in more tourism to Propwash anyway with you _and_ the Prince of Propellers around!" Chug said.

"Actually, Chug, it'd be best if we didn't advertise it. I kind of want to show Rip the slow life." Dusty clarified.

"It's not _that_ slow since we have Honkers, but okay, Dusty!" Chug replied.

"Honkers?" Ripslinger inquired, wondering what that was. If it made the town known for only corn not "slow," it must be relatively important.

"Oh, it's just a sports bar. It's pretty fun to hang out there, though!" Dusty explained to Ripslinger.

"And Ripslinger agreed to this?" Dottie asked. 

Ripslinger nodded. "Yeah. It'd be good for the two of us, and I guess I could use a break. L.A. can get stuffy." 

"Well, if you want to have Ripslinger over, Dusty, I'm all for it!" Sparky said. He trusted Dusty's judgement, and Ripslinger was still being cordial even though there were no cameras around anymore. That had to count for something.

"Yeah, I agree with Sparky." Dottie agreed.

That left Skipper, who had been listening to Chug, Sparky, and Dottie talk to Dusty and Ripslinger. "So Ripslinger's going to go back to Propwash with us?" His tone was fairly unreadable again, but Ripslinger still heard a hint of hostility. The Corsair was probably trying to hide it.

"Actually, no. I've got some stuff to get done at RPX, but I'll fly over to Propwash a week later. If that's okay with you." Ripslinger told Skipper with a slight smirk. Of course, he wasn't actually checking if him being in Propwash was okay with Skipper, but it was just to rub in that everyone was taking Dusty's side.

Skipper still felt uneasy about the whole thing, but he knew that if Ripslinger tried anything, the P-51 was going to be outnumbered. Besides, he did have to realize that Ripslinger hadn't changed ever since the reporters left. He would've expected the Mustang to up and leave when he could if he didn't want to hang around Dusty. 

"Alright. I suppose that it…wouldn't hurt." Skipper said, hesitantly agreeing with the rest of the group. Even if he still disagreed, the majority ruled. But he'd keep a close eye on Ripslinger. He still didn't trust Ripslinger, but obviously Dusty saw something in him that he didn't. But what was it?

"Great!" Dusty exclaimed, happy that everyone was okay with Ripslinger staying in Propwash. "Well, Rip, did you want to stay around longer? Or did you want to head back to Cali before sunset? I know it's a long way there from New York." 

"Yeah, I'd better head back to RPX HQ before I need my landing lights to get there. If you don't mind, I'm gonna head off. I'll see you in a week?" 

Dusty nodded, waving goodbye with a landing gear. "Yeah! See you!" 

Ripslinger waved back, before driving away towards the runway to take off for the flight back to Los Angeles. Once Ripslinger was out of earshot, Skipper looked down at Dusty, a worried expression on his face.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing."

Dusty could understand why Skipper was so uneasy about Ripslinger, but he hoped that his mentor would eventually give Ripslinger a chance. He believed that planes could change, and he had seen that in the Mustang that night in Nepal. He just hoped that Ripslinger would eventually decide to explain everything during his time in Propwash… 

"Trust me, Skip. I know he's changed." 

Skipper didn't look like he was any more at ease about the whole thing, but he sighed, deciding that he'd trust Dusty. The former crop duster was two years older than he was back then, anyway. He was probably wiser now. "I trust you, Dusty."

* * *

Ripslinger looked straight ahead during the five hour flight to Los Angeles, sighing as he thought about what had just happened. Well, he was now going to visit Dusty in Propwash in a week's time. There was no turning back now. He knew that he agreed to it with training as an incentive, but there were many more factors contributing to his decision.

Spending time with Dusty, and appealing to his friends were also reasons why it was probably a good idea to do it anyway. If he wanted to truly persuade them, especially Skipper, that he had changed, and was willing to be friends with Dusty, he had to hang out with them as well. It was the only way.

Training wise, it was also a good idea. He knew the relatively nearby Sierra Nevada mountain range too well, since he used that for his training over uneven terrain. Flying over an unfamiliar one would help him immensely with his agility, which was enough to beat the usual competition, but not Dusty. 

Even if he didn't exactly want to admit it, he was glad that he had the opportunity to learn more about Dusty. Wings Around The Globe didn't give him enough time to really form a bond with the orange air racer, which was why he was still left kind of uncertain as to why Dusty even bothered to give him a second chance in the first place.

It could be just because Dusty was inherently nice, but there must be a reason, right? _Ugh. I don't know why I've been constantly thinking about Dusty lately. I should focus on building RPX back up during the week I have._ He resolved, as he continued flying towards RPX headquarters.


	9. Anticipating

Ripslinger sighed as he finished up some more paperwork in a perfunctory manner, obviously not enthused by the work required to build his racing team back up. He had a reserve of Sky Slycer Mark Five propellers in case one of his two contra-rotating propellers broke, but besides that it was almost like he was starting from scratch.

Well, maybe not to that extent; he still had his HQ/house and his pit crew, but he usually got someone else to manage finances and accept funding. Now he had to do everything himself. _Though I really have no one else but myself to blame…I was using Dusty as a scapegoat._

Dusty had basically forced himself to admit that, and he knew that after confessing everything to Dusty in Nepal, he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. The orange Air Tractor probably went up to him that day at the start of the Wings Around The Globe rally because he knew that another plane hid underneath the confident, arrogant act that he put up.

The sun shone brightly into the room he was in, but he paid it no mind as his mind was preoccupied. Dusty knew that what he saw in 2013 wasn’t the real Ripslinger, and he partially succeeded in uncovering it in Nepal. Yet still, the Mustang held back whenever he was around Dusty. 

Sure, he was cordial, but he never really let on what he thought of Dusty besides “oh, yeah, we’re friends now.” It was a defense mechanism of sorts, but what was it defending? His pride? His confident persona? Or was it something else entirely?

Ripslinger let out a low growl of frustration as he went to shut the blinds, the bright sunlight becoming blinding enough as it reflected off of the white paper that it forced him out of his thoughts. He was looking forward to, yet dreading, visiting Dusty in Propwash. Why did things have to be so complicated?

And he even felt his own emotions betraying him as he felt kind of lonely, missing when Dusty routinely decided to visit him at night in his hangar, or that one time that _he_ was the one who visited Dusty. Was it just because he wasn’t accustomed to being alone? Or was it because of a specific bond that he had with Dusty: a real friendship?

It had only been a few days; usually he valued solitude because it gave him the time and space he needed to think. But sometimes being able to sit and think wasn’t the best thing, because you ended up overthinking things.

He was asking so many questions that he didn’t know the answers to, but he had a feeling that he’d get his answers in Propwash. It was a gut feeling, something that was innate and not just something that he purposefully thought of. 

Even after all this time, he was still unsure as to what he was doing. He wanted to think that he just accepted because of the training aspect, but when he thought about it he was unsure about that, too. Was it also because he got to spend time with Dusty, and could prove to his friends, especially that Skipper of his, that he had changed?

 _Whatever. No more thinking about this. I’ve wasted enough time already. The quicker I get this done, the quicker I can relax._ He resolved, determined to wait until he’d fly off to Propwash. He was sure that even Dusty wasn’t thinking about his visit this much. Dusty probably had better things to do.

* * *

On the contrary, Dusty might have been thinking about Ripslinger’s visit even more than the P-51 was. He was excited that the Mustang was going to visit him in Propwash, and that his friends had also agreed to it, albeit for Skipper reluctantly. 

Dusty could tell that his mentor was still very wary of the idea; he was less happy than usual, and seemed to be reverting slightly to his old ways of being gruff and serious. Of course, it was never as bad as from before Dusty reached out to Skipper to train him, but anyone who knew Skipper well noticed the change in his demeanor.

Although he greatly appreciated that Skipper was there to look out for him, Dusty hoped that over the time that Ripslinger would be in Propwash, Skipper would be able to see that Ripslinger had genuinely changed, and that it wasn't just for show.

Of course, that was probably not going to be instantaneous. Ripslinger had built up a reputation of pandering to the camera, when he was in reality a very different plane. That was especially prominent when he "eulogized" Dusty while he was on the Flysenhower after running out of fuel.

But that was in the past. There was no use dwelling on past events; Dusty had forgiven him, and he could tell that Ripslinger had changed. He just knew it, and he hoped that he could show his friends that. Especially Skipper. 

"Dusty, if you keep on pacing like that I'm afraid I'm going to have to change your landing gear before they reach the end of their lifespan." Dottie remarked, snapping Dusty out of his thoughts. 

He had been hanging out with Chug and Dottie at the Fill 'N Fly over a can of oil. He had forgotten. Oops. "Heh, sorry, Dottie. Just kind of preoccupied with Rip…"

"Uh…English please?" Chug asked Dottie, not understanding what the mechanic said through the mechanical jargon.

"I was saying that Dusty should stop pacing or he'll wear out his landing gear prematurely." Dottie explained as she glanced at Chug, before turning back to Dusty. "And yeah, I can tell. You seem pretty excited to have him over."

"Well, he's the Prince of Propellers! The Green Tornado! And Dusty convinced him to visit Propwash! It's cool how we've grown so much because of you, Dusty." Chug remarked.

"It's also because of you and Sparky, Chug! After all, you guys make my merchandise and sell it to my fans." Dusty replied. He was happy that he had done so much for the small town, though. Propwash was now a little tourist destination. Not on the scale of something like the Grand Canyon, but his hometown was now no longer off of the map.

"Let's not forget that he almost killed you, though." Dottie pointed out, always the voice of reason. "The only reason why I agreed to have him over is because you seemed so sure that he had turned over a new leaf."

"That's because he has! Trust me, when he arrives in the next few days, you'll see that he's become a nicer plane. Those two years probably gave him time to think."

"Yeah, and you forgave him just like that when he apologized! It's nice that it was so easy for you two to reconcile." Chug commented.

Dusty gulped as he just went along with what Chug said. He hoped that he could elaborate on that when he asked Ripslinger about it later on. It wasn't as simple as he made it out to be, and he was lucky that his friends hadn't questioned him further about it just because of his good mood. 

"Yep! I'm looking forward to spending more time with him. Wings Around The Globe isn't nearly enough time to get to know someone." 

"Well, yeah. It's about a week. Probably enough to be an acquaintance, but nothing more in my opinion. I guess it's good that you invited him here." Dottie said.

"I became friends with El Chu in the span of a week. Don't underestimate my charisma." Dusty replied with a light chuckle. "Though yeah. Probably the biggest challenge is to prove to Skipper that Ripslinger is worth a second chance. I know he just wants to protect me, but I feel bad that Ripslinger coming over is making him uneasy."

"That's probably why he's been hanging out more in his hangar with Sparky, right?" Chug surmised.

Dusty nodded. "That's the only reason that I can think of."

"Well, he doesn't exactly have the best impression of Ripslinger. The first time he saw him was during one of those attempts on your life by him and his henchplanes." Dottie stated.

Dusty sighed. Again? Even he, the victim, had forgiven Ripslinger. Maybe once the Mustang agreed to explain to his friends, they would be more willing to let the past go. "I really hope you're not going to mention anything about that when Rip comes over." 

"No, of course not!" Dottie protested. "I'm just saying that's why Skipper doesn't have the best opinion of him and wouldn't be on board with the whole idea of having Ripslinger stay here for a few months."

Dusty's expression fell as he looked down at the ground. "Yeah. I wish there was something that I could do to make him feel better."

"Maybe you could go and talk to him. We only saw him this morning, which was several hours ago." Dottie suggested. “He avoids talking to others when something’s bothering him.”

Dusty perked up a bit at that, his eyebrows lifting in excitement. "That's a good idea. Thanks, Dottie!" He headed off to Skipper’s secluded hangar at the end of the runway, leaving Dottie and Chug to look at each other.

“I hope Skipper’s in the mood to talk to him.” Dottie said with a sigh, watching Dusty drive away.

“Well, he’s Dusty’s mentor! Of course he’ll want to talk to him!” Chug replied.

“True. Dusty _was_ the one who got him to open up in the first place, after all.” Dottie agreed.

Dusty soon arrived at Skipper’s hangar, and he got deja vu to when he waited outside the imposing hangar two years ago, preparing to ask Skipper if he would train him, under the impression that the old Corsair had flown dozens of missions.

 _Never mind that. Skipper’s changed._ He immediately asserted in his head, as he knocked on Skipper’s hangar door. It was almost like the roles were reversed; he was scared of knocking on Ripslinger’s door, now he was again afraid of knocking on Skipper’s door. But he had no reason to be scared this time. He knew that.

Skipper didn’t purposely avoid the others, and he didn’t want to come across like he had fallen back into his old ways. He just needed time to think about what was going on. Dusty made amends with Ripslinger, and RIpslinger was going to visit Propwash, per Dusty’s persuasion. 

Sure, he had time to think about it beforehand, but it was almost like it was just registering now. He would’ve never dreamed that the plane who tried to kill Dusty multiple times would turn out to be his friend. Something must be going on that he didn’t know about. But then again, if there was, Dusty would’ve told him about it. Right?

As if on cue, he heard a knock on his hangar doors, but he didn’t realize that it was Dusty as first. “Sparky, who is it?” He asked, not facing his hangar doors right now and he wanted to know who it was before he turned to address whoever decided to visit him. When he then thought about it, though, he had a pretty good inkling as to who it was. 

“It’s Dusty, Skipper. He probably wants to talk to you. Everyone’s been concerned that you’ve stayed inside, all morning and into the afternoon.” Sparky informed Skipper.

“I suppose that it’d be good if I talk to him then.” Skipper mused, his inkling confirmed as he turned around. He rolled up to the hangar doors and opened them with a wingtip, revealing Dusty who looked up at him respectfully.

“Hey, Skip. Can I come in?” Dusty asked, slightly unsure of himself.

Skipper nodded, reversing a bit and out of the way of the doorway so Dusty could enter. “Of course, Dusty.”

Dusty visibly looked relieved when Skipper seemed okay with talking, and he entered while Sparky shut the hangar doors behind him. “I wanted to know if you were okay. Chug, Dottie and I have been worried since you’ve stayed inside your hangar a lot ever since we came back from New York.”

Skipper noticed that Dusty echoed when Sparky had told him just now. He was glad that he had such attentive friends, and he felt bad that he had caused them worry. “I’m fine. I’ve just been doing a lot of…thinking lately.” He told Dusty.

Dusty nodded in understanding. It was what he suspected. “It’s about Ripslinger staying here in a few days, right?”

“I still trust you in your judgement, kid, don’t worry about that. It just doesn’t make it any easier for me to understand and cope with.” Skipper tried to explain. Although he thought that Dusty was a little naive, still relatively new to the racing world, he decided that he would give Dusty the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, I understand. I know that your first impression of him wasn’t the best. Mine wasn’t either.” Dusty admitted.

Skipper looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow, concerned. “If it wasn’t, then why were you so quick to forgive him? I know grudges do nothing to help, but after what happened…that didn’t leave a lasting impact on you?” He was sure to not sound accusing in his tone, more inquisitive. Just trying to understand the other’s thought process.

Dusty hesitated to respond to Skipper’s question, trying to think of a way to answer without revealing what Ripslinger told him. No matter how much he wanted to to help his friends understand, he wouldn’t betray the Mustang’s trust in him. Though he would be sure to breach that subject relatively quickly when Ripslinger arrived.

“He sounded really heartfelt when he apologized to me. I’m glad that I never gave up in trying to talk with him.” Dusty managed to reply, afraid that it sounded like a weak excuse instead of a genuine reply.

Luckily, Skipper seemed to not notice or he decided to not bring it up. “Dusty, I’m afraid that you’re going to be nice to the wrong plane, and they’ll take advantage of you. Ripslinger pretended to be your friend just to build himself back up again.” 

“I know he did that, but that was my fault for giving him that advice! And it turned out well in the end, anyway.” 

Skipper sighed. “I know it did. And I suppose that he’s not going to be dumb enough to try anything while he’s here.”

“Exactly. Trust me, Skip. When he arrives, you’ll see what I’m talking about.” Dusty promised, looking at the Corsair with a sincere expression.

“I know I will. If Ripslinger’s really decided to become a better plane because of you, that’s a great thing. But what I said on that radio call you had Ripslinger on? It still applies. I care about you, Dusty, and I’m not going to let someone do such a thing again.” 

Dusty smiled, moving forward to touch his nose with Skipper’s to calm him, though he appreciated his mentor’s concern for his well being. He could always count on the Corsair. “Thanks, Skip, but I’ll be fine. He’ll be on our turf.”

That, along with what he said, caused Skipper to relax a bit, as he leaned into the touch, a hint of a smile on his face. Dusty pulled away after a while, feeling that Skipper was sufficiently relaxed by his friendly gesture. 

“Group hug?” Sparky suggested after being quiet this whole time, a smile on his face.

Dusty laughed, the suggestion being very appealing to him at the moment. “Yes, Sparky, group hug.” He said, and Sparky quickly went over, the three of them sharing a nice embrace. The group hug allowed him to take his mind off of Ripslinger for a moment and focus on what he already had: the best friends in the world.


	10. Nightmare

The day had come, and Dusty was excited for Ripslinger’s arrival as he paced around on the tarmac by Propwash’s runway. The sun’s rays warmed his body as he squirted into the sky, looking for any sign of the green P-51 Mustang. He had waited days for this moment, and he couldn’t be happier.

Oddly, his friends weren’t there with him, but he figured that they were just shy and would come out and meet Ripslinger later. No matter; he was too excited to give it a second thought, and his nose tipped up sharply when he heard the faint drone of airplane propellers that cut through the relative quiet of sleepy Propwash Junction.

He didn’t hesitate to look up at the sky yet again, anxious to see any sign of his former rival that he had invited to his hometown, and he faintly saw an airplane approaching the runway. Obviously, it was too far away to see, but as the noise grew louder he soon saw that characteristic green, black and orange paint job, illuminated by the bright sunlight.

Dusty practically jumped as he quickly moved to the opposite end of the runway where Ripslinger would eventually stop after landing. He had so many things he wanted to say; what would he say first? Well, maybe he’d just wing it, no pun intended. He was just happy that Ripslinger went through with his offer.

Ripslinger soon landed, and Dusty quickly rushed over to greet him, giddy with excitement. “Rip! I’m so glad you came! It’s so nice to see you again. How was L.A.?” 

“Eh, boring, but not boring anymore now that I’m here! Time for some training in those mountains you told me about, am I right?” Ripslinger replied, flashing a grin.

“Well, actually, I wanted to give you a tour of Propwash and maybe show you Honkers. You were interested in that, right?” Dusty recalled.

“Uh, no? I came to train in the mountains so I can get better at racing. You didn’t think that I came here to hang out with you, right?” Ripslinger let out a harsh chuckle at that. “What a joke.”

Dusty’s expression fell at that. What? But…he thought that Ripslinger was his friend. His exuberant demeanor was replaced with confusion. “B-But you made amends! You said we were friends! I mean…you enjoy my company, right?”

Ripslinger scoffed, rolling his eyes at Dusty’s naivete. “Wow, why would you think that I’d hang out with a glorified tractor with wings like _you?_ I came here to get better, so I can beat you and regain my rightful place as the Wings Around The Globe champion. But…since you’re not going to give that to me, there’s no point in me being here.”

Dusty shrunk on his landing gear under Ripslinger’s gaze, not able to register what Ripslinger was saying in shock. Ripslinger never cared about him? It was all a charade? He only came here for training? “Y-You never cared about me?”

Ripslinger just harshly laughed again, amused at Dusty’s reaction of shock, almost taking pleasure in the pain written all over Dusty’s face. “Pssh, no. With your help, everyone loves me again. I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Dusty was desperate to keep Ripslinger there. Surely he didn’t mean what he said. It was a cruel joke, right? They’d go back to how they were that night in Nepal? “Please, Rip, I want to be friends! Surely that must be important to you?”

“Now that I have my racing empire back, you’re of no use to me. Your feelings are your problem, not mine. See you later, _farm boy._ ” With that, Ripslinger taxied away, soon flying off as Dusty stood there in shock, trying to come to terms with what just happened.

His expression then changed to one of pure despondency as he felt that sickening feeling of betrayal slowly come upon him. How could he be so naive? He sniffled as he felt a single tear fall from his eyes, and they didn’t stop flowing after that.

No one was there to comfort him. He was left by himself, thinking about the mistake he had made. He sobbed as he collapsed on the hot tarmac, his landing gear no longer able to support him from his fragile mental state. Ripslinger never cared about him. He was only a tool, and that was all that he’d ever be… 

_Why would I hang out with a glorified tractor with wings like you?_

* * *

Dusty jolted awake as the alarm clock sounded in his hangar, tears still fresh on his cheeks as sunlight shone into his hangar. It took him a while in his haze of sleep to realize what had happened, as he went to shut off the alarm. _It was a dream?_ He wondered, sniffling as he blinked back any remaining tears from his nightmare.

It felt so real. All of it felt so real. Dusty wanted to deny it, but he knew why he had dreamt such a thing. He was so confident that Ripslinger was going to come, and they could hang out and get to know each other better, but his mind reminded him of the worst case scenario that he was afraid of.

 _And it had to be the day that Rip’s actually coming…_ Dusty sighed, getting off of his sleeping mat and glancing at his shelf dedicated to Ripslinger merchandise that he had collected when he was just an avid racing fan, not an actual racer. He couldn’t help but wonder how Ripslinger would react to that.

 _That is, if he actually stays to see it._ Dusty thought, before he quickly stopped that train of thought before it even left the figurative station. It was a dream, nothing more, and he wouldn’t let it affect him and his enthusiasm for this day. Ripslinger was coming, and he was going to stay. 

Sure, training influenced his decision a little bit, but he was probably just afraid of staying in Dusty’s hometown. Ripslinger was always guarded whenever he was around him, and Dusty wanted to help the P-51 come out of his shell. 

He saw his reflection in one of his hangar windows, and tried to make himself look as presentable as possible before he went outside. He did not just bawl his eyes out during his sleep because of a nightmare. Hopefully, his friends wouldn’t notice anything off when he hung out with them today.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his hangar, closing it behind him as he headed to the Fill ‘N Fly for a can of oil to start off the morning, which was already quite rough for him. Hopefully, it’d cheer him up and give him the energy he currently lacked, though it could also be because he just woke up.

Chug and Dottie were already up, serving cans of oil to customers when Dusty approached. He usually came earlier, but his alarm clock was set just in case he overslept so he got up at a decent time of morning. Chug immediately noticed him, and he waved with his nozzle while Dottie talked to Mayday.

“Dustmeister! You’re up late.” Chug commented, as he pushed a can of oil Dusty’s way.

“If you consider me waking up with my alarm late, then yeah.” Dusty replied, still a bit groggy as he took a sip from the can of oil.

“You’re usually a relatively early riser, so yeah! I guess you were especially tired last night.” Chug surmised.

“Uh…” Dusty figured that he’d just go with what Chug said. It made it easier that way. “Yeah. It took me a while to get to sleep since I was thinking about Ripslinger.”

“You’re really looking forward to him arriving today, huh?” Dottie remarked, apparently done with her conversation with Mayday as the resident fire truck drove off.

Dusty nodded. “Of course! You guys get to see how he’s changed, and I also look forward to getting to know him better. That was the whole point of inviting him here.”

“Well, I definitely look forward to seeing what you’re talking about.” Dottie replied.

“What time did he say that he was going to arrive?” Skipper asked, pulling up with Sparky. 

“Oh, hi Skip.” Dusty greeted. “He didn’t give me an ETA, but judging by the fact that he’s not an early riser, it’s probably going to be this afternoon.”

“Hm, well, it better not be too late. It can be hard trying to land here at night, considering that we’re built on a plateau and there’s a giant rock formation on one side.” Skipper pointed out.

“It’s a three hour flight; he’ll probably arrive before the sun goes down even if he left at one in the afternoon today.” Dusty replied. “I’m glad that you took that into account though, Skip.”

“No problem. Since he’s your friend, I wouldn’t want anything happening to him on his way here.” Skipper was obviously trying to give Ripslinger a chance after his talk with Dusty in his hangar.

“Here ya go, Skipper!” Sparky said as he came from inside the Fill ‘N Fly, holding two cans of oil in his tines. One for Skipper, one for himself.

“Thanks, Sparky.” Skipper said, taking a sip from the open can of oil.

“Anyway, since you said he’s not going to arrive until later, you still have the whole day to enjoy! Better to not preoccupy yourself with Ripslinger’s visit, right?” Dottie pointed out.

“Right.” Dusty agreed, taking another sip from his can of oil. The thought would only be brought to the forefront of his mind when he actually saw Ripslinger arrive.

* * *

Later on in the day, Dusty was hanging out outside his hangar, lounging in the sun when he heard his radio crackle to life. He wasn’t sure at first if it was the radio but he quickly jumped up onto his landing gear from his resting position, heading inside his hangar to listen to his radio. 

Dusty wondered if El Chu was calling to catch up after the Wings Around The Globe, but he was surprised when he heard another voice, one that he would’ve never thought he would hear, come through his radio. 

“Ripslinger to Dusty. At least I think that’s the lingo…”

Dusty’s eyes widened as he scrambled to step on the pedal to pick up, surprised that Ripslinger was radioing him. Not that I was going to complain, though. “I read you, Rip! You remembered my frequency!” 

Rip chuckled, amused that Dusty was so excited to talk to him. “Well, I wrote it down first thing when I arrived back at RPX. I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading out now. Should be there in a few hours.” 

“Okay! Thanks for letting me know! I’ll tell the others. I can’t wait to show you around!” Dusty already had an idea of what he would show Ripslinger. Granted, it wasn’t a lot unless they took flight, but he could do that tomorrow. After the three hour flight, Ripslinger probably wouldn’t want to fly.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Propwash. Anything to help me find it, by the way? Last time I heard it wasn't on the map." 

"Oh, uh…the plateau Propwash Junction is on looks like an airplane, including the tail which is a giant rock. I'm not kidding. You'll know it when you see it." 

Ripslinger raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn't question Dusty. "Alright. Talk to you later.”

“See you later!” With that, Ripslinger hung up, and Dusty grinned. He didn’t mention anything about training, and he cared about him enough to write down his radio frequency so he’d remember it. And then that’s when the bombshell hit him. 

_Ripslinger said my first name…without any press around…_ Dusty felt stupidly happy that Ripslinger had used his first name instead of “farm boy” or “Crophopper, since he might’ve just said it absentmindedly. But Dusty saw it as a reassuring sign that Ripslinger was his friend, blowing any apprehension he had from his nightmare away.

He quickly made his way outside his hangar, eager to tell his friends the news. Hopefully, they'd be in the same spot so that it'd be easier to tell everyone at the same time. Even if not, that was alright, because he could just say the same thing twice. It's not like he minded, since giving an ETA for Ripslinger's arrival was important.

Looking around, Dusty saw Chug and Dottie inside the Fill 'N Fly, Chug asking some questions about something Dottie was fiddling with. He assumed Skipper was in his hangar, until he saw the Corsair come out from behind another hangar with Sparky. He had probably taxied from his hangar down at the end of the runway.

When Skipper saw him, he perked up heading over to him. "Hey, Dusty. I was actually looking for you. Ready to do some flying? I have a feeling you're going to be slacking on training when Ripslinger arrives." He said, chuckling a bit after he finished talking.

"Aw, come on, Skipper! You know I'd never do that. But I actually wanted to tell you and Sparky something, along with Chug and Dottie. Then we could go flying! I'll never say no to that." 

"Huh? What is it, Dusty?" Sparky asked, curious as to what Dusty had to tell them.

"I'll tell you guys once I get Chug and Dottie." Dusty said, heading over to the Fill 'N Fly, while Skipper and Sparky followed. Skipper looked down at Sparky with a confused expression, but the forklift just responded by shrugging with his tines.

"Hey guys!" Dusty greeted, his gaze immediately shifting to the long fire hose on Dottie's work table, which she had just set down after fiddling with it. "What's that for?" 

"Oh, it's a replacement fire hose for Mayday. Not that he needs it now, but it's always good to have one, just in case." Dottie explained, before asking a question of her own. "How's it going?" 

"Going well! I actually just spoke to Rip over the radio after he called me, and he said that he was about to leave for Propwash. That means that he's going to arrive in three hours from now, which is…" Dusty glanced at a clock in Dottie's workshop. "Four o' clock."

"It's good that we can now plan on him arriving at a certain time." Skipper commented.

"Yeah! I'm sure you're really excited for his arrival, right Dusty?" Chug asked.

Dusty nodded. "Definitely. Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Are you guys going to wait with me by the runway to greet him?" 

"Of course. It'd be better than if you were the only plane there to greet him." Dottie remarked.

"Great! Thanks, you guys. Okay, Skip. I'm ready to fly when you are." Dusty said, looking at the Corsair with a smile.

Skipper returned the smile. "Let's go, then. I'll try to keep it relatively short; I know that you'll want to head back to make some sort of preparations." 

Dusty shook his head. "Nah, just you guys joining me in welcoming him is enough. There's no need for an extravagant affair." 

"Are you sure? There was all that green smoke when he arrived at the qualifications back when you started racing, remember? And he had those planes announcing for him." Chug recalled.

"That was at a public event where he was showing off to fans; this is different because he's just coming over to hang out. Besides, I don't think he has the materials to make such an entrance, anyway." 

"Oh. Yeah…you're right. You also want to be away from the public spotlight, right?" 

Dusty nodded. "So we can just be ourselves, and you guys can see what he's really like. Alright, Skip, you ready?" 

Skipper let out a laugh at that, amused by the question. "Are you?" He replied, turning the question back on Dusty. Of course he was ready.

Dusty laughed as well looking at his mentor with a slight smirk. He was glad that he managed to get the Corsair out of his shell; he hoped that he could do the same thing to Ripslinger. "I always am! Let's go." 

The two headed out, ready to do some more training before Ripslinger arrived. Dusty appreciated it, anyway. He was probably going to end up spending more time with Ripslinger once he was here, so hanging out with Skipper while he had his undivided attention was the best thing to do.


	11. Ripslinger's Arrival

Dusty zigzagged around the grain elevators on the ground amongst the corn fields that were Propwash Junction's pride and joy, testing his agility which was still sharp. The grain elevators were like a natural slalom course, which he was thankful to have because he could train while enjoying the natural scenery.

Even though he had lived in Propwash Junction for many years, he never got tired of the view from the plateau that the town sat on. He had a determined look on his face as he successfully traversed the grain elevators, pulling up to fly alongside Skipper. 

"So? How'd I do?" Dusty asked eagerly, always wanting to do better. He was known for pushing his limits, much to Dottie's frustration, but it usually paid off when he was racing. 

"Very well! Nice flyin' out there. You always handle the slalom course well." Skipper commented.

"Thanks, Skip. I wouldn't be good at it though without you. Definitely helps me with my agility." 

"Well, you also put in the work. Don't sell yourself short. Anyway, I think we've been out for long enough; ready to head back?" Skipper asked, looking at Dusty as they flew over the corn fields.

"Yeah, let's head back." Dusty agreed. 

The two flew back to Propwash's runway, beginning their descent and soon landing to meet back up at the Fill 'N Fly. Sparky was the first to notice them approaching, and he waved with a tine. 

"How was your guys's flight?" He asked.

"It was great! I certainly got a workout thanks to Skipper, heh. It's good to keep my skills sharp, though." Dusty replied.

"I was wondering when you guys would get back! It's been two hours. I was afraid that you were cutting it fine, Dusty. Though I guess if you met Ripslinger in the air it wouldn't be a disaster either." Dottie remarked.

"Wait, _what?_ " Dusty exclaimed, surprised that they had taken that long. It didn't seem like two hours. "I didn't know that we took that long." 

"It certainly didn't feel like two hours." Skipper said, to which Dusty nodded in agreement.

"Well, it was technically slightly less than two, but yeah. You really like training, huh Dusty?" Chug said with a chuckle.

"Yeah…wow. Well, we still have an hour. Wasn't _that_ fine. I could go for a can of oil after that. What about you, Skip?" Dusty asked, turning to look at Skipper.

"I could go for one as well." Skipper agreed.

"Coming right up!" Chug said, as he went inside the Fill 'N Fly building to fetch two cans of oil for Dusty and Skipper.

Meanwhile, Ripslinger was flying high over the Minnesota landscape, slowly starting his descent when he neared Propwash Junction. Apparently, according to Dusty, the whole town was built on a plateau that looked like an airplane, complete with a giant rock formation for the tail, so it'd be hard to miss.

He had caught the jet stream traveling west to east, so it significantly sped up his travel time to Propwash Junction, which was good, since the flight there was relatively boring, save for flying over the Rocky Mountains. He still couldn't believe that he was doing this, but he was…excited to see Dusty again.

He was anticipating facing Dusty's friends and hopefully making a good impression. The infamous reputation he had built up in previous years needed to come down. He knew that he would have to explain to them as well, but he definitely wasn't going to do it today. Not until he got settled in Propwash.

 _Dusty did say that he was going to show me around…I wonder how much there is to see?_ He wondered, as he soon saw the airplane shaped plateau that Dusty was talking about, topped with a runway and a multitude of hangars, one of which would be his. _I guess I'll just see what happens when I land…_

Dusty and the rest of the gang were oblivious to the fact that Ripslinger was approaching Propwash. That is, until Chug looked into the sky and suddenly gasped, pointing at Ripslinger with his crane arm. 

"Hey, who is that approaching the runway?" 

Dusty whipped his head around to see who Chug was talking about, and he immediately could tell that it was Ripslinger from the green, black, and orange paint job when the plane got closer. He quickly dropped his can of oil from his mouth and he scrambled to wait by the side of the runway. 

"Oh Chrysler… Come on, guys! We need to go!" He urged, and Chug, Dottie, Sparky, and Skipper all followed him. 

"I thought you said that he was supposed to arrive at four o' clock, Dusty." Skipper recalled.

"He was, but I guess he's thirty minutes early!" Dusty replied, breathing heavily once he made it to the side of the runway with the rest of his friends.

Ripslinger was already on final approach by the time that Dusty and his friends scrambled to the side of the runway to greet him, and he saw them as they made their way to apparently greet him. _Guess I was too early._ He thought with an amused smirk, as his landing gear made contact with the runway.

He soon slowed down to a taxi, and he made his way onto the taxiway towards what looked like the main center of the town, where Dusty and his friends were, along with most of the hangars. His first impression? Well, the town was certainly very…scenic. It didn't seem like there was a lot to do, but he wouldn't judge a book by its cover.

Besides, he now had other things to think about because was that Dusty suddenly rushing towards him? His eyes widened as he braced himself, thinking that Dusty would collide with him, but Dusty soon slowed down, to his relief, as his friends tried to follow. Obviously, they didn't expect Dusty to run off like that. 

"Rip! It's nice to see you again!" Dusty greeted, his blue eyes gleaming with glee.

Dusty's giddiness was infectious, as Ripslinger smiled. "It's nice to see you as well. It's good to be able to take a break. I dealt with a lot of paperwork at RPX."

"Exactly why I said you needed a break. But I'm glad that your racing team is doing better!" Dusty was so glad that reality was as different from his nightmare as night was from day. 

"Yeah, me too." Ripslinger agreed. "So…you weren't kidding when you said the town is shaped like an airplane." 

"Nope! Sure makes it convenient to identify when you're in the air though, right?" Dusty replied.

"Definitely. It stuck out against the rows and rows of corn fields. Oh, and was I too early? I saw you guys scrambling to meet me. It was kind of funny to watch." Ripslinger remarked.

"Yeah, you were! Dusty panicked when he saw you arriving and he was like: 'Oh no! We need to go! Now!' or something like that." Chug recalled.

Dusty felt the hint of a blush forming on his face from embarrassment. _Why, Chug, why?_ "Well, I wasn't _panicking._ Just surprised."

Ripslinger chuckled a bit at Dusty’s chagrin, but it wasn’t in a malicious way. "I caught the jet stream on the way here. Made the trip faster." 

“By a whole thirty minutes at that!” Sparky commented.

Skipper watched Ripslinger’s interactions with Dusty carefully, and he really couldn’t pick up on anything suspicious. It seemed, to him, that Dusty was genuinely happy to see Ripslinger, and although the Mustang wasn’t as open with showing his affections, there was a smile on his face. _Maybe Dusty was right…_ He thought, but he’d still be vigilant.

“Well, I did tell Dusty that the sky has tailwinds like nothing you’ve ever flown.” Skipper spoke up, trying to sound cordial, but Dusty could discern strain in the Corsair’s voice as he kept it devoid of inflection that he usually used to sound friendly.

Ripslinger’s smile went away when Skipper spoke, as his olive eyes met Skipper’s blue. It was almost like he hadn’t registered the Corsair until now, maybe purposefully ignoring him until the Jolly Wrench made himself known. “Yeah? I guess you were right, then.” 

Dottie cleared her throat, trying to make the situation less awkward. “Did you want a can of oil from the Fill ‘N Fly? You’re probably tired after that flight.”

“Eh, two and a half hours isn’t that tiring for me. Thanks for the offer, though.” Ripslinger replied.

“Uh…in that case, how about I show you around? I’m not sure if there’s anything here that you didn’t already see on your way in, but I did say that I was going to give you a tour, heh…” Dusty said, figuring that now was a good time to bring it up.

Ripslinger glanced around at the cluster of hangar buildings that made up the town to his left. “That sounds good to me. Lead the way, Dusty.” 

_He called me Dusty again…_ Dusty thought, happy. It didn’t look like Ripslinger paid any particular attention to it when he said it, so he was probably doing it absentmindedly, but Dusty still appreciated the change.

“We’ll leave it to you, Dusty!” Chug said, to which Dusty responded with a nod. 

“Thanks guys. We’ll see y’all at Honkers tonight.” Dusty said, as he drove off with Ripslinger to start the tour, which would probably take less than half an hour if he didn’t drag anything out for too long.

Dusty covered most of the town, starting at the Fill ‘N Fly where he embarrassingly noticed his half-drunk can of oil which he finished, causing Ripslinger to laugh while he watched, amused. They passed by the major buildings, including the air traffic control tower, and even Honkers itself.

It looked relatively empty when they passed by it, but Dusty reassured Ripslinger that the sports bar was the life of the party once the sun went down, since most of the locals headed there to relax and have fun at night.

Finally, they arrived at the spare hangar that was to be Ripslinger’s for the few months that he was to stay in Propwash. It was pretty centrally located, off of the taxiway that ran parallel to the runway, near the air traffic control tower. 

“And this is where you’ll be staying. I know it’s not much on the inside, but it has all you’d ever need.” Dusty said, as he pushed open the hangar doors with a wingtip. 

The inside was quite bare, but there were shutters to block out light from the outside for the hangar windows, a sleeping mat already in place on the floor, and a few cans of oil in case Ripslinger didn’t feel like venturing outside for sustenance on a desk to his left. There was also a fridge to keep actual food in case Ripslinger wanted to try the corn they grew.

The P-51 looked around as he entered the hangar. It looked pretty bare, despite what was inside, but he expected that. It was only going to be for a few months, anyway. Besides, at least Dusty had managed to convince his friends to let him stay in his own hangar.

"It's great, thanks." Ripslinger told Dusty. It's not like there was anything that he could complain about since, as Dusty put it, the hangar had anything that he would ever need.

"I promise we all don't live in bare hangars like this. I could show you mine, if you want." Dusty offered.

Huh…see Dusty's hangar. Well, that sounded interesting. "That sounds intriguing. You probably have a lot more stuff in there, right?" 

Dusty nodded. "Yeah. I'm actually not that far away from your hangar; just a few hangars down." He said, as he turned around to head out of Ripslinger's hangar, gesturing for the Mustang to follow.

Ripslinger did so, following Dusty outside once again, traveling past a few hangars that presumably belonged to other planes before they arrived at Dusty's hangar, which was only differentiated from the other hangars by Dusty's racing number on each door, a black stylized 7 in a white circle.

Dusty opened his hangar doors, and Ripslinger was immediately struck by how much more was in the Air Tractor's hangar. The first thing his eyes gravitated to was the sheer number of racing posters on the walls of the hangar, most of them being of…him. He even recognized some of Team RPX's old merchandise from the 2000s.

The big map of the Wings Around The Globe flight path was still up to his right, and Ripslinger saw the same refrigerator and cans of oil on a desk that he saw in his hangar to his left, except that Dusty's desk was more cluttered, with various books about racing and a model of himself sitting front and center. 

Of course, there were other posters of legendary racers from the Wings Around The Globe competition in Dusty's hangar, but he was obviously the one most featured, Team RPX's logo being everywhere. He felt…a bit confused. Wouldn't Dusty have taken the pictures of him down after what he did? Why were they still up? 

"You didn't just put this stuff up for me, did you?" Ripslinger asked, the uncertainty he was feeling showing in his expression.

Dusty shook his head. "Nope. And you have to see this." He said, as he gestured at a shelf near the back of his hangar, where his sleeping mat was.

Ripslinger followed, and saw a whole shelf filled with his own merchandise. There were banners from air races that he won, and another model of him on the shelf, along with a Sky Slycer Mark Five propeller and a picture of himself signed by…him? He didn't remember ever meeting Dusty before the Lincoln qualifications in 2013.

"Did I sign that for you?" Ripslinger inquired, pointing at that specific picture. He knew it was taken in a studio; he recognized the promo photo he had taken for the press, but it was the signature that he was wondering about.

"Oh, no. That was when you pre-signed them and were selling them. I saved up my salary when I was still dusting crops under Leadbottom to buy that. I was probably your biggest fan back then." Dusty admitted, looking at Ripslinger to judge his reaction.

It was…surreal, to say the least, looking at the merch that Dusty had collected over the years. He obviously wasn't kidding when he said that he looked up to him before he became a racer. It just made him feel worse about what he did. 

"I'm honored that you have all of this stuff. You probably were my biggest fan; I don't think I've seen so much of my merch in one place before. And it's not just what I sold. You bought the ribbons for some of the races I won as well." 

"Yeah. I did tell you that I looked up to you. But now that we're friends? I guess I can say that I'm still your biggest fan." Dusty said, smiling as he looked at Ripslinger.

"Why didn't you just…you know…take it down after what happened? Why would you keep it up after I tried to kill you?" 

Dusty's eyes widened as he tried to answer that question, thinking about it for a while as the smile dropped off of his face. "I really did want to take them down, but I guess a part of me knew that you'd change someday. I guess it was also to remind me of my past before I became a racer. But that doesn't matter any more, Rip. You've changed. That's what matters."

"Well…" Ripslinger smiled a little as his gaze shifted from the shelf to Dusty. "Thanks, Dusty. Maybe while I'm here I'll sign some of these for you." 

Dusty blushed as Ripslinger said his first name again, and how nice he was being. "That'd be nice." He paused before he spoke again, thinking of something. "You know, it's so surreal that you're in my hangar, looking at my collection of merch about you. The me from five years ago wouldn't have believed it." 

"It probably wouldn't have happened either, if you weren't so stubborn in talking to me when I told you not to." Ripslinger admitted, a slight smirk on his face.

Dusty laughed, taking Ripslinger calling him stubborn as a compliment. "You know me. If someone tells me I can't do something, I'll do it." 

"Hm…in that case, you can win against me."

Dusty rolled his eyes. "I didn't say that it went both ways." 

"Hmph…well, how was I to know that?" Ripslinger muttered. 

Dusty laughed again. It was nice when he could just talk to Ripslinger casually, like they were friends. "It's a given. I'm competitive. By the way, I've noticed something…"

Ripslinger raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? And what's that?" 

"You've been using my first name. You know, instead of calling me 'Crophopper.' It's nice; it feels like we're close friends." 

He was? He didn't even notice… "I guess…I don't know…I've known you long enough, and those feelings of hatred I had just kind of dissipated since you've been so nice to me. I mean, you're providing me with a hangar to stay in while I'm here and everything." 

"Well, the only alternative would be you sharing a hangar with me, and the space in here is pretty tight." Dusty replied, chuckling. He was happy that his efforts to be nice to Ripslinger has paid off; he could already tell that the P-51 was coming out of his shell.

Ripslinger seemed taken aback by that suggestion, his eyes widening as a hint of a blush came upon his cheeks. _Get a hold of yourself, Ripslinger. It's not like you haven't done that before with Dusty._

"We also know how that turned out. People assume the weirdest things." 

"Ah…yeah…" Now it was Dusty's turn to blush as he remembered what had happened in Nepal. "Unlike that incident, there's no paparazzi to worry about here." 

"Yeah, that's good. Although I like the spotlight, sometimes it can be a bit much when I'm just leaving the house to do errands and I get swarmed." Ripslinger admitted. 

"I'm still a bit new to fame myself, so imagine how I must feel." Dusty muttered, until he realized that the hangar was getting kind of dark. He looked outside, and saw the sun down near the horizon. It was already sunset, and it would get dark pretty quickly.

"It's getting dark; did you want to head over to Honkers now?" 

"Oh, yeah, sure. You said it was a sports bar, right?" Ripslinger asked.

"Yep! Trust me, it's the life of the party around here. You'll like it." Dusty said, as they left Dusty's hangar for Honkers to meet up with his friends.


	12. Honkers

Ripslinger followed Dusty from his hangar to Honkers’ Sports Bar, and he definitely knew that this place was where pretty much everything in Propwash Junction happened after sun down, since a lot of cars and planes overtook the two as they filled the sports bar, probably to drink and mingle.

The first thing that Ripslinger noticed when they arrived at Honkers was the choice of music. It was country playing from a retro jukebox, and a bunch of planes, cars, and forklifts were dancing to it in a corner that looked to be set aside for that purpose. _This is what’s considered the life of the party?_

After parties after his wins at RPX headquarters definitely weren’t this tame, with hip hop music blaring and the party scene a lot more wild than just a bunch of vehicles mingling around. Well, he supposed that he shouldn’t expect such a thing in a small town like this. 

This probably _was_ the party scene. Oh well, he’d entertain himself in other ways. Dusty quickly spotted Chug, Dottie, Sparky, and Skipper all at a large table near one of the corners of the sports bar, and he quickly headed over as he waved hello with a landing gear, Ripslinger following.

“Hey guys! Hope we didn’t keep you waiting for too long.” Dusty said, as he pulled up to the table with Ripslinger.

“Not at all! We were waiting for you guys before we ordered.” Chug told Dusty.

“Excuse me!” Sparky called out to a waitress forklift, who quickly came over to take their order. 

“What can I get for y’all?” The waitress asked.

“Uh…you two wanted Crudeweisers, right?” Sparky asked, looking at Chug and Dottie.

“Yep!” Dottie replied.

“What’s a Crudeweiser?” Ripslinger asked Dusty, assuming that it was some weird cocktail.

“It’s oil mixed with Budweiser. Pretty good, actually! But uh…I’ll have a Heineken.” Dusty told the waitress. 

Skipper paused a bit before ordering, shifting his gaze from Ripslinger to the waitress, which gave the P-51 some relief. It seemed like the Corsair still didn’t fully trust him. “I’ll have a screwdriver.”

“I’ll just have a normal can of oil, heh.” Sparky said, not feeling like drinking tonight.

It was now down to Ripslinger, who felt like an outsider with what he thought was a pretty good knowledge of cocktails, but he had no idea what a Crudeweiser was. Granted, it might be a local invention. According to Dusty it was good, but he didn’t want to embarass himself if he took a sip and immediately didn’t like it. 

“Uh…I’ll have a margarita.” Couldn’t go wrong with a classic margarita, right? At least he knew that he’d like it.

The forklift drove off to take their orders, and Dusty turned to look at Ripslinger. “So, how do you like Honkers? Pretty fun, right?” 

“Must be, considering that you guys have cocktails I haven’t even heard of.” Ripslinger said, chuckling a bit.

Dusty laughed as well. “Well, we are infamous for making up drinks when they aren’t interesting enough. They even made a cocktail in my honor called the Dusty Crophopper.” 

Ripslinger looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

“No, he’s not! It’s weird, though. It’s named after him, but he won’t drink it!” Chug revealed.

“Because I’ll get drunk off of one glass, Chug! You know how potent they are.” Dusty retorted, deciding to add the second sentence so Ripslinger didn’t think that he was a lightweight.

“Potent? What’s in them?” Ripslinger asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Tequila, white rum, orange liqueur, orange juice, corn juice, and Heineken.” Skipper recalled.

Okay, yeah, that sounded potent. “Damn. Sounds like a Long Island iced tea with that many ingredients."

Dusty nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You're asking to have a hangover after having one." 

"Whoever's brave enough to order it around here usually has to get towed back to their hangar." Dottie stated.

"Why is it named after you, though? Those ingredients sound random. Well, I guess save for the Heineken you just ordered." Ripslinger asked.

"Tequila for my friendship with El Chu, white and orange things because of my color scheme, corn juice because of my past of dusting fields of corn, and Heineken because it's my favorite beer ever since Franz introduced me to it." Dusty explained. 

"Apparently it tastes good, according to the person who had it last." Sparky said.

"They were probably too drunk to have an accurate sense of taste, then. Those ingredients don't sound good together at all." Skipper opined. Being the oldest, he had his fair share of cocktails.

"I'd have to agree. I mean, corn juice?" Dusty cringed in disgust. "I'd have to agree with Skipper. And it's technically _my_ drink." 

Ripslinger laughed. "Well, it's not like you were the one that decided to make it and name it after yourself." 

Their drinks arrived, and Ripslinger sipped from his margarita, intending to not get drunk off of the cocktail. The bartender was a bit heavy handed on the tequila, but eh, whatever. One margarita wasn't going to make him make a fool out of himself.

"So, you said Franz introduced you to Heineken?" Ripslinger inquired, looking at Dusty while the others were enjoying their drinks.

"Yeah, at that same tavern the racers stop at during the Wings Around The Globe! It was during the 2014 race. I had only drunk Budweiser up to that point, but I figured that I'd try out Heineken since it's from the neighbouring country of the Netherlands. Thought that it'd be more authentic, you know?" 

Ripslinger nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. I didn't take you for much of a drinker, though." 

"Oh, I'm not, but I can still appreciate stuff like that! When you go to after parties booze is almost always present." Dusty explained.

"I make sure he doesn't have too much. He can make a fool of himself when he's drunk." Skipper explained. 

"I do not!" Dusty protested, pouting.

"You spout nonsense usually about racing and lose just about all of your inhibitions. Don't think I've forgotten about how you wanted me to carry you all the way back to your hangar." Skipper said, chuckling at the memory. At least Dusty wasn't an angry drunk.

Ripslinger burst out laughing, to Dusty's chagrin. "W-Well…at least I didn't try to go by myself, alright? I feel like you're doing this on purpose…" 

"I actually ended up carrying you just because I was afraid you were going to drive off of the plateau." Skipper told everyone, eliciting laughter which Dusty just rolled his eyes at.

"Well, didn't Sparky bring up something about you wearing a hula skirt when you two were stationed in Coronado? He never finished the story." Dusty pointed out, a smirk on his face.

 _That_ caused Skipper to rethink his teasing. "Sparky, no." He said preemptively.

"Aw, but it's a good story, Skip! Besides, it's only fair." Sparky said, obviously eager to tell the story. 

"I'd like to hear it as well. Sounds rich if a hula skirt is involved." Ripslinger remarked, looking quite amused as he took another sip from his margarita glass. 

Skipper sighed, knowing that he was well and truly trapped, and it was of his own doing. It was all in good fun, though. "…Alright, Sparky, go ahead." 

The night was filled with more shenanigans, and two margaritas and a piña colada later, Ripslinger was starting to feel a bit buzzed. Not drunk, obviously, but buzzed. Well, if he did anything unlike him, he could blame it on the alcohol, right?

He laughed as Chug was recounting some story of how he and Dusty had to pretend to be two daredevils for Leadbottom's Vitaminamulch Air Spectacular, or whatever it was called. His gaze shifted away from Chug to the dartboard next to their table, where a forklift was throwing darts at the dartboard, some of his friends cheering as he presumably made good throws.

In all of the times he had been inside bars, he never actually played darts. Probably because he was doing more important things like holding court, but the idea sounded intriguing to him at the moment. 

Maybe that was because of the alcohol, but hey; all he had been doing was sitting and drinking, and he'd be tempted to order another drink if he didn't do something else, and then he would actually get drunk, and he didn't exactly want to have a hangover the next morning.

Dusty noticed Ripslinger looking at the dartboard, and he jumped at the opportunity. "You wanna play? I know the rules, and I can play against you!" 

"I can't exactly play considering I can't throw the dart with my landing gear." Ripslinger pointed out.

"Which is why planes use their mouths to shoot the dart!" Dusty explained.

"Well that's gross…" 

"Don't worry! They clean them after they're used. Besides, it doesn’t actually touch your mouth. Come on! It'll be fun!"

Ripslinger was under the impression that Dusty was slightly drunk as well, but he figured, why not? Having fun was why he went to Honkers in the first place, right? "Alright, Dusty. You're on." 

Dusty taught him the basics as his friends looked on, and soon enough he found himself holding a blowgun with a dart attached at the end in his mouth as he gazed at the dartboard. He tried to remember everything that Dusty told him, but it was a bit hard to remember all of the rules considering that he was told them in the span of around five minutes.

Whatever. He was going to blame it on the alcohol if he messed something up. Besides, the most important thing was that he was aiming to reach zero first from 301. At least he remembered that. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the dartboard, aiming for the triple 20, since that was the highest number of points one could get.

He blew as hard as he could, and the dart flew through the air, except that it hit the dartboard below the triple ring he was aiming for, earning him 20 points instead of the 60 points he was aiming for. He huffed in disappointment, a slight scowl on his face.

“Hey! That’s pretty good for your first time! I’m probably going to miss the dartboard completely.” Dusty said, laughing. “You have two more shots, anyway.”

Ripslinger sighed, though he decided to go along with his other two darts. If Dusty said that it was a good shot, then he’d keep going. He still aimed for the 20 section of the board simply because it was the part that would give him the most points.

He tried to compensate for the dart hitting lower than intended as he angled the blowgun higher in his mouth and blew, but he had over compensated, and the dart hit the upper ring instead, right on the fringe of the dartboard. He initially thought that was a poor score as his expression turned sour, but Dusty’s astonished look indicated something else.

“What?” He said as he glanced at Dusty. “Isn’t it better if you hit closer to the center?”

“This isn’t like archery, Rip, you hit the double ring dead on! That’s 40 points!” Dusty exclaimed. 

Rip’s frown immediately turned into one of confusion. “Wait, really?”

Dusty nodded. “Yeah! You’ve got 60 points now. If you hit the triple ring that’ll be 120 points!”

Well, that certainly changed things. He couldn’t help but be proud of the fact that he was doing well on his first try, but there was also that infamous belief of beginner’s luck. He needed to focus if he wanted to beat Dusty, even if it was only for bragging rights.

He shot his final dart, aiming lower to try and compensate for aiming too high, but the dart still landed too high, and he got another 20 points. Well, at least he was consistent at landing in the 20 point section of the dartboard. “80 points, Dusty. Try and beat that.” He said with a smirk, but Dusty seemed unbothered by the taunt. It’s not like he was doing it maliciously, anyway.

“Oh, I will.” Dusty replied with confidence, though Ripslinger couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol, since Dusty had more than just the Heineken.

Dusty did actually end up keeping his word, as he managed to score 90 points from hitting the inner bullseye. It was 221 to 211, but Ripslinger knew that it was close. The two were naturally competitive, but a game of darts didn’t feel as high stakes as an air race did.

Ripslinger actually found himself laughing in amusement when Dusty managed to make a comeback to his playful taunts whenever Dusty was in the lead, and Dusty did the same when Ripslinger was in the lead. The darts game was fun, and it felt…nice to be competing against Dusty, but not feel hatred or ill will. 

Skipper seemed to notice this as well, as Sparky made a comment about it right as he was thinking about it. “They definitely seem to be having fun together, eh Skip?”

The Corsair was silent for a while as he watched them some more. He couldn’t deny that Dusty was happy with Ripslinger, and the Mustang also looked like he was having fun, a smile on his face that was probably helped along by the alcohol, which eroded the inhibitions Ripslinger usually exhibited emotionally. 

He felt a smile come on as he watched Ripslinger and Dusty and their game of darts. He couldn’t deny that Dusty was happy, and Ripslinger had certainly changed from the P-51 he saw two years ago. If he had any doubt of Ripslinger’s intentions, it was certainly becoming less and less prominent. There was no one here for Ripslinger to impress. It was genuine.

However, there was a nagging uncertainty, especially since there was no real concrete reason for Ripslinger's change of heart. That was still prominent, but Skipper saw no need to push the subject for now, considering that everything was going well and that there was no threat to Dusty.

“Yeah. They are.”

* * *

It was eleven o’ clock at night by the time Ripslinger and Dusty made their way out of Honkers, and said goodbye to Dusty’s friends to turn in for the night at their respective hangars. Ripslinger ended up winning the darts game, but it was by a small margin; Dusty was five points away from zero, and he would’ve won if Ripslinger hadn’t landed a dart in the 18 point section of the dartboard that he needed.

They soon arrived at Dusty’s hangar, and Ripslinger waved goodbye to head back to his own hangar. “Night, Dusty. Thanks for taking me out to Honkers.”

“Night, Rip! Thanks for the darts game! I liked hanging out with you.”

Ripslinger smiled. “No problem. See you tomorrow.”

Ripslinger continued on his way to his hangar, feeling more happy then he did when he won races. It was almost like he felt a new sense of fulfillment. Sure, he had been in contact with Ned and Zed almost all the time when they were his henchplanes, but this was something new. He still didn't exactly know what it was, but maybe he'd find out as time went on.


	13. Training With Dusty

Light shone into the hangar through the windows, its rays shining directly onto Ripslinger's closed eyes, which soon woke him up, the sheer brightness of the morning sun being too much to keep him in his slumber.

He stirred, mumbling something incoherent as he slowly opened his eyes, yawning groggily. The bare hangar was definitely a departure from the luxury he was accustomed to at RPX headquarters, but he dealt with it just fine. After all, it was similar conditions to those at Wings Around The Globe, and the sleeping mat was sufficient.

He didn't feel like moving for a while, still trying to fully wake up, but he saw that the clock in his hangar read 10:30, and figured that he should get out of his hangar. Besides, if he got too used to the luxury of being able to sleep in, he might not want to go back to waking up at a decent time.

Considering that he was a one plane show until he managed to build RPX back up to its former glory, he couldn't do that for now, unfortunately. He yawned again as he rolled off of his sleeping mat, sauntering over to his hangar doors to nudge them open with a wingtip, figuring that his eyes had enough time to adjust to the brightness of the late morning.

The taxiway by the runway immediately greeted him, and he rolled onto it as he headed down to where most of the other hangars were, hoping to see either Dusty or one of his friends. He was thankful that he was conservative with his drinking last night, which saved him from a hangover which would easily make him grumpy.

He wanted to put his best tire forward, even though he had his flaws that he wasn't exactly eager to share with anyone else other than Dusty. Being an attentive plane from his training as an air racer, he noticed that Propwash didn't have many side streets besides the main taxiway.

Honkers, the firehouse, and a few other commercial buildings were on a dead end side street that led to the Fill 'N Fly, while the other street, lined with residential hangars, was the main road that led to the nearest interstate in Minnesota. Since it was built on a plateau, there was no road on the other side of the town; the main runway in the way meant that Propwash was a dead end.

 _No wonder it wasn't on the map for the longest time._ Ripslinger thought, as he finally made his way to the main center of the town; the Fill 'N Fly. He had a feeling that he would be spending a lot of time around here and Honkers when he wasn't in the air, hopefully training with Dusty so he was still sort of productive while he was here.

Speaking of which, where was Dusty? He certainly wasn't here. He assumed Chug and Dottie were inside the hangar next to the Fill 'N Fly, considering that they were co-owners of the fuel establishment, but he didn't know where anyone else was. Well, besides the forklift who was always with Skipper, Sparky, who was drinking from a can of oil outside.

Sparky waved to him with a tine and said "Good morning, Rip!" in a break between his sips, probably being the most cordial one of Dusty's friend group along with Chug. Ripslinger definitely appreciated that, and he was sure that his demeanor at Honkers, no doubt aided by his tipsy mental state, left a good impression. 

"Good morning." Ripslinger replied. "Where are all the others?" He inquired.

"Chug and Dottie are in the hangar, and Dusty and Skipper went out for a flight. Probably to keep Dusty's skills sharp. You can ask inside for a can of oil, by the way, if you're hungry." Sparky said, gesturing at the hangar with a tine.

"Ah, no, I'm good. I'll just wait until lunch." Ripslinger replied. Maybe he shouldn't wake up so late, since he ended up missing a lot of things since people were already up and about by the time he got up. Everyone seemed to be early risers around here.

Since Dusty was already out flying with his mentor, he probably would want to take a break before flying again. He soon felt a pang of…disappointment? He supposed that he expected that Dusty would be free this morning, and that was why he was disappointed when his expectations weren't met, but was it something else?

It was probably also just disappointment in not being able to spend time with Dusty, because he had to admit it. He liked Dusty's company. And it was weird since he, a month ago, wouldn't have even entertained the idea, since he was so entrenched in hatred. Now, he was sad when he was deprived of that contact that gave him that happiness he experienced last night.

He really had changed, and it was all because of, as he said, Dusty's stubborness of wanting to talk to him. Dusty was too nice for his own good, in his opinion, but in this instance, it paid off, and he was able to experience what it was like to have a real friend. Maybe even multiple friends now, since he was getting the impression that Dusty's friends were warming up to him.

"Hey, Rip, are you alright?" Sparky asked, now closer to him as he waved a tine in front of his propellers, looking concerned. 

Ripslinger snapped back to reality at that, looking down at the forklift. Wow, he must've really zoned out. He usually didn't do that, but he supposed that it was related to how Dusty had affected him. Dusty had removed the scorn and hatred he had felt and replaced it with joy and fulfillment. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Sparky." He replied.

Soon after he said that, he heard the faint noise of airplane engines overhead, and he looked up to see Dusty and Skipper in the sky, flying over Propwash Junction. They looked like they were coming in for landing considering their steep bank angle to align themselves with the runway. Well, at least he didn't have to wait too long.

"Do they usually go out on flights every day?" Ripslinger inquired, his gaze shifting back to the former Navy medic.

Sparky shook his head. "Well, not every day, but they do fly quite often. Dusty knows when to relax, but Skipper ensures that he doesn't slack. After all, he has to work harder since his engine isn't as powerful as yours." 

"Right…" Ripslinger nodded, as he watched Dusty and Skipper fly in, landing on the runway. They taxied towards the Fill 'N Fly, where Dusty immediately saw Ripslinger.

"Oh, Rip! You're up!" Dusty greeted. "Must've been tired from last night, huh?" 

Skipper regarded him with a silent nod, his expression definitely softer than when he met him at JFK airport after the race. Though it could also be because he was in a good mood after a flight; he couldn't tell.

"Well, also because of the flight here, and I'm just not a morning person. You know this." Ripslinger replied.

"Yeah, I know." Dusty laughed, thinking back to that morning in Nepal that Ripslinger was probably referring to. "At least you're up! Maybe after lunch I could show you the mountain range I was talking about. I was going to approach you about it this morning, but you were still asleep." He explained. 

Ripslinger raised an eyebrow at that, unsure of whether Dusty was just offering because he was obliged to, or whether he actually wanted to train with him. "Didn't you just fly with Skipper? You're not tired?" 

Dusty shook his head. "Nah! We were only out for around an hour, and I love flying high anyway. Still making up for all of that lost time dusting crops, you know?" 

"Yeah, I get you." Ripslinger replied. "This Leadbottom guy of yours that was your old boss. He sounds…eccentric." 

"That's one way to put it." Skipper muttered, still holding a grudge that Leadbottom thought it was a good idea to offer Dusty his old job as a crop duster when he was the most vulnerable.

"I'm glad you didn't bump into him on your first day here. Wouldn't make a good first impression." Dusty said, laughing. "My advice? Don't take him up on it when he tries to sell you his Vitaminamulch. It's nasty." 

Ripslinger cringed. "Considering I got a whiff of it when you first came out, I have no idea who in their right mind would buy it in the first place."

Dusty just laughed again, gazing at the P-51 with a smile. "You and me both, Rip. You and me both."

* * *

A few hours later, after lunch, Ripslinger decided to take Dusty up on his offer, and he and Dusty were soon taxiing to the runway, getting ready to take off. Ripslinger was in a good mood; he could train in the mountains to improve his agility, as well as hang out with Dusty, something that he increasingly enjoyed.

“I think you’ll like the stuff I have to show you around Propwash, Rip. The good thing about living in the middle of nowhere is that you have all the space you could ever need to train!” Dusty said, as he started his propeller.

“Well, I look forward to training with you.” Ripslinger replied, as he started his two contra-rotating propellers as well, starting his takeoff roll when Dusty did. 

They were soon airborne, and Ripslinger could clearly see the airplane-shaped plateau that Propwash sat on as they flew towards the mountain range that surrounded Propwash. It wasn’t a huge mountain range like the Himalayas or the Appalachians that he contended with during Wings Around The Globe, but he could make do by just flying low, in the canyons between mountain peaks.

“Alright, Rip, you ready?” Dusty asked, as they approached the mountains from a low altitude, aiming for the canyon in between.

“You kidding? I’m more concerned about whether _you’re_ ready, going up against the Green Tornado and all.” Ripslinger said with a smirk, to which Dusty just laughed. 

“Okay then! Try and take the lead over me in this section.” Dusty said as he pulled ahead, using his new gearbox to the fullest. He banked around turns smoothly, ensuring that he didn’t lose much airspeed.

Ripslinger’s agility also wasn’t to be scoffed at, except when looked at compared to Dusty. This was the case for all of the racers; because of Dusty’s unconventional background, he had the upper hand from using strategies and tricks that other racers usually didn’t think of. That is, unless they applied those techniques themselves.

Ripslinger looked on determinedly, as he banked sharply around turns to keep up, and he utilized his more powerful engine to the fullest when he had relatively straight sections, allowing him to pass Dusty further down the mountain range.

However, Dusty had another trick up his sleeve, doing a radial-G pass over Ripslinger, which was basically a barrel roll over the P-51’s canopy. Dusty whooped, taking the lead again. Obviously, Skipper’s training still allowed him to have the advantage over Ripslinger, mainly because he was racing smarter, not faster.

Two could play at that game, however. Ripslinger remembered what that maneuver looked like, and stored it in his repertoire for later use. Besides, being such an experienced racer, it’s not like he didn’t have techniques of his own.

He held back to conserve some energy, knowing that Dusty would eventually tire out from having to swerve around each rock ledge in his way, and his prediction came true. When Dusty started falling back a bit to regain stamina, he took the opportunity to overtake Dusty, mimicking the radial-G pass to take the lead.

It wasn't perfect, sure, and he wasn't used to having his vision turned upside down, but he did it quickly so he wasn't too disorientated, and he successfully took the lead, turning around to head back in the direction of Propwash before they strayed too far. 

"Hey! That's my move!" Dusty protested, to which Ripslinger just laughed.

"Don't use it so much if you don't want others using it against you." Ripslinger retorted, smirking as he pushed his engine to maintain his lead. Once he took a comfortable lead, it was hard to beat him. 

Dusty pouted. "Well then, I'll just have to think of something else!" 

"You'd better think of it quickly!" Ripslinger teased, as they soon approached the opening of the mountain range, and he and Dusty were back to flying over corn fields. 

"Alright, Rip, you won this time. It's good that you're pushing me to think of new maneuvers to win." Dusty conceded, as they flew side by side. 

"Glad to help." Ripslinger replied, looking around at the scenery around Propwash Junction. He had to admit; it definitely beat the concrete mess that was Los Angeles, though RPX headquarters was somewhat distanced from the city center.

"That was fun, racing against you again. It's nice when it's competitive, but there's no, you know, bad feelings between us. You know what I mean?" Dusty tried to explain, but Ripslinger knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Yeah, I know. It's nice training with you as well. You definitely push me to become better as a racer." Ripslinger admitted.

"Likewise!" Dusty beamed, giddy that Ripslinger liked their training so far. "It's definitely better when you have someone else to train with. What do you do over at RPX to train?" 

"Well, kind of similar to what you do. The Sierra Nevada is relatively nearby, so I usually head over there to do my uneven terrain training. The rest I do over RPX itself, whether that's working on my speed, vertical climb, or anything else." 

"Oh, yeah, you're close to the Sierra Nevada! That's where Piston Peak is, where I got certified." Dusty recalled.

"Yeah, I know. I've probably only been there a grand total of once; I'm not much of an outdoors guy. Sure, I can appreciate the scenery you got here, but camping and roughing it outside? That's a no go for me." 

"Huh, I thought you would've stayed in the Grand Fusel Lodge. That's their version of a hotel, and it's inside. Cad was reopening it after a 'restoration' project, which was really just trying to make it five star quality." 

"Who's Cad?" 

"He was the park superintendent." Dusty said with a look of disgust. "Good thing Ol' Jammer replaced him; that enormous wildfire that ravaged Piston Peak was his fault." 

Ripslinger vaguely remembered reading something about that in the news, at the same time the whole thing about Dusty becoming a firefighter was everywhere. "Oh. Well, it's a good thing that he's gone, then."

"He didn't even bother to learn my name when I arrived to get certified. He confused me for you!" Dusty recalled, laughing at the memory. In that point in time, he and Ripslinger were polar opposites. He found it funny that someone managed to confuse them.

"He _what?_ " Ripslinger raised an eyebrow at that, more confused than amused by what Dusty had said. "How? Was it just because we're both racers?"

"Yeah, probably. Anyway, it's in the past, and I'm in a better place now."

"Well, now I'm even more glad that he's gone." Ripslinger muttered, to which he and Dusty both laughed. 

_Ripslinger's in a good mood…maybe now is the time to bring it up?_ Dusty thought, as they flew over the corn fields of Propwash. He knew that if he didn't bring it up now, he might not have the courage to again. 

Although Skipper seemed to be regarding Ripslinger more positively, and the rest of his friends were as well, he was under the impression that Ripslinger telling his friends everything would make his decision to apologize and make amends have an actual reason. 

It would also present the opportunity for his friends to forgive Ripslinger, and to help the Mustang to feel more like he belonged in the close friend group that he had developed in Propwash. He just wanted the best for the P-51, and he felt like this was the best course of action.

"Hey, Rip?" Dusty started.

"Yeah?" Ripslinger replied, their propellers droning in unison as they continued flying over Propwash.

"Would you be open to, you know, telling my friends what you told me in Nepal? They'd understand why you've changed and want to be a better plane. I'm sure that they'd understand why you did what you did." 

Ripslinger's air of happiness immediately vanished at that, as he looked troubled. He knew that he should tell Dusty's friends everything, but he hadn't felt comfortable doing that on his first day in Propwash. But now that they had seen how he had changed in person, maybe now was the right time. 

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine!" Dusty started to backpedal. "I'm not forcing you, and I just thought that it would be-" 

"It's fine, Dusty, really. I know that I should explain to them about everything." Ripslinger interrupted, before Dusty could further misinterpret his silence as he thought about the matter. "But when should I do it? Tomorrow?" 

"Yeah, I could help you think of how to put it to them, if you want." Dusty suggested, wanting to help Ripslinger in any way that he could. 

"No. It might sound more genuine if I thought up everything I was going to say, just like how I did with you." 

Dusty looked at Ripslinger, concerned. "It's really no trouble, Rip. I know that Skipper is imposing and all, and you want to say the right thing." 

"If I'm too worried about how I come across, though, I can sound fake as well. It's better just to be truthful and genuine. You know what I mean?" 

Dusty nodded. "Yeah. I get it. Honestly, Rip, I already think they've seen that you've changed. It's just to give closure on the whole thing. So they know that's why you've decided to make amends." 

"I understand that. I'll approach them tomorrow morning. You'll be with me, right?" Ripslinger asked. It'd definitely help if Dusty was there with him.

"Of course, Rip. I'll be there." Dusty asserted.

Ripslinger then realized something, and let out a chuckle, which Dusty noticed. His eyes flitted back towards the Mustang, showing concern and confusion. "Huh? I didn't think that was funny."

"No, it's not that." Ripslinger clarified. "It's just…I like to think that I'm confident in any situation. But trying to explain myself to your friends makes me anxious." 

Dusty gave a comforting smile, flying a little bit closer to Ripslinger. "You'll be fine, Rip. I'm here for you. Always." 

Ripslinger stopped looking ahead to shift his gaze to Dusty, returning a small smile of his own. "Thanks, Dusty. For giving me a second chance." 

"Sure thing, Rip. Did you want to head back?" 

Ripslinger nodded, looking back at the runway. "Yeah. That'd be good." 

Ripslinger and Dusty made the turns necessary to line up with the runway, coming in for landing after a fruitful and pleasant flight together, having learned some racing techniques from each other.

* * *

Ripslinger lay awake on his sleeping mat as the moonlight filtered into his hangar, the only source of light at this time of night. He grumbled as he shut his eyes tight, trying to get to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about what he would say to Dusty's friends when he tried to explain his motivations.

It was definitely insecurity, and the fear of not living up to expectations, but would they take that as a valid excuse for what he did? Dusty did, but the Air Tractor was nicer than most other planes. He was quickly growing fatigued from all of the thinking he was doing, ever since this whole thing started.

Never would he have dreamed that he would be visiting Dusty in his hometown, and in this position right now, but he couldn't complain. He was glad that he had Dusty as a friend, and all he had to do was show the same sincerity he showed Dusty to his friends the next morning. It was that simple.

He meditated on that thought as he finally managed to drift off to sleep, at peace with what he was going to do.


	14. Redemption

The next morning immediately brought a feeling of worry when Ripslinger opened his eyes, but he was determined to not let that affect him. His persona was confident; so should he in real life. He gazed at the clock in his hangar to see if he actually woke up at a decent time; it read 9:30. 

_Not bad._ He thought, as he rolled off of his sleeping mat and moved to open his hangar doors, preparing to drive outside and hopefully come across Dusty and his friends in the same place. That'd make it the easiest for him, but it was a best case scenario that probably wasn't going to happen.

No matter. He'd just talk to whoever he came across first, and hopefully manage to get everyone together so he could talk to them all at once. That would be easier than trying to talk to Chug, Dottie, Sparky, and Skipper individually. 

Which was why he was surprised to see no one at the Fill 'N Fly, and he instead saw Dusty and his friends together near Skipper's hangar at the end of the runway when he looked in the opposite direction. They were there all at once, which was his aforementioned best case scenario. 

_I wonder what's going on over there._ He wondered, as he taxied over towards Skipper's hangar. The Corsair's hangar was probably the most isolated from the other hangars in Propwash Junction, so it was probably something important. Dusty saw him coming and quickly went over to greet him. 

"Good morning, Rip! Sorry I didn't tell you last night, but I thought that it'd be good to get everyone together to make it easier. That's easier for you, right?" 

_Oh. That's why they're here._ Ripslinger nodded, grateful that Dusty took the initiative to make it less hard for him than it already was. He didn't usually pour out his heart and soul to others, so just having them already there to listen made it better. 

"Dusty said you had something to tell us?" Dottie recalled, looking at Ripslinger as everyone else looked at him now too. 

Ripslinger nodded. _Well, here goes…_ He took a deep breath, glancing at everyone who was now looking at him, and listening intently. "I wanted to try to explain why I did the things I did two years ago at the Wings Around The Globe competition." 

"…Go on." Skipper said, his expression unreadable, as he stared at Ripslinger.

"As Dusty told me at some point during that competition, I was afraid of being beaten by him. But it wasn't just me being a sore loser. It was more than that. At the qualifications in Lincoln, Dusty had that same spark I had when I decided to race. I felt like he was a threat." 

Ripslinger paused, trying to think of how to phrase what he was going to say in his explanation. "Because of my successful racing career, there was a lot of pressure put on me to succeed. Early on in my career, I faced harsh criticism when I didn't do well, so I grew up thinking that my racing career would be over if I didn't win." 

"So you thought that it was okay to threaten Dusty's life just to save your racing career?" Skipper said when Ripslinger paused in his explanation, obviously angered.

"I never wanted to kill him! I wasn't thinking rationally, but my main goal was to stop him from cutting the ribbon first. Then when Dusty won and the 'Ripstinker' debacle occurred…" Ripslinger sighed, trying to hold it together. 

"I knew what I did was wrong, but I covered it up with hatred towards Dusty. I'm glad that he was tenacious enough to give me a second chance even when I told him to stay away. I know there's nothing that could even rationalize what I did, but I'm a changed plane. Even after all that happened, I still have a racing career, so I know that delusion wasn't true."

Ripslinger sighed. "I just wish I could've told myself that before I did all of that. But I can't, so all I can do is live in the present, and atone for what I've done. I humbly ask for your forgiveness." 

Dusty's friends were silent for a while as they thought about what the P-51 had said. Dusty looked uneasily between his friends and Ripslinger, unsure as to what that silence meant. It definitely made him uncomfortable and worried.

Ripslinger shared similar sentiments, as his gaze flitted between Chug, Dottie, Sparky, and Skipper. The silence was unbearable, and he was seriously starting to think that this was a bad idea, until Chug spoke up.

“You’re definitely a different plane than from back then. Of course I accept your apology! Welcome to the Propwash family!” Chug said happily, usually an affable and laid-back fuel truck, this moment being no exception.

Dottie nodded in agreement, looking at Ripslinger with a slight smile. “Considering that you’re willingly staying here, apologizing with no one to impress, I can tell you’re sincere.”

“I forgive you! I kind of already did, I guess, since we talked on friendly terms yesterday, anyway.” Sparky recalled.

It was down to Skipper, as Ripslinger and Dusty both looked at the Corsair. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he stared at Ripslinger, having enough experience over his lifespan to tell if someone was putting on a really good performance, or whether they were faking it.

As Dottie said, staying here really didn’t help Ripslinger in any way, except if he was just here to copy Dusty’s training techniques for his own purposes. And even that probably wasn’t the case, since the Mustang stayed around to hang out with them at Honkers, even playing a game of darts that lasted for quite a while.

Ripslinger wanted to spend time with them, and it was pertinent that he was having fun while doing so; Skipper was sober enough that night to remember that the P-51 was laughing along with Dusty during the darts game. He had seen another side to Ripslinger that he usually didn’t show in front of the cameras.

There was no media here to impress. Ripslinger made an effort to spend time with them. The fact that he was even apologizing was enough evidence. Ripslinger was afraid of losing his racing career, which was practically his means of livelihood, and he admitted that what he did could not be rationalized, yet he was still making an effort to do so.

Even watching Ripslinger shrink under his gaze further convinced him that he was genuine. He only ever saw the confident persona that Ripslinger displayed to the general public, but being in Propwash set him free of what societal standards thought he should be, and left the real Ripslinger behind. He didn’t sense as much of that confident air that Ripslinger usually displayed.

“Ripslinger.” Skipper addressed, which caused Ripslinger to look back up at the Corsair, after he had been gazing at the ground under Skipper’s hard stare. "I can tell over the past few days that you've changed, in the way that you treat others. I know when someone is faking it, and you aren't doing that. I forgive you as well." He finally said, a slight smile on his face.

A rush of relief took over Ripslinger as he sighed, smiling as well. He was forgiven. It already felt like that, anyway, but it was all the more liberating when he finally apologized to those he had hurt in his past. He wasn't perfect, but he would try to be a better plane. He had been given a second chance; he wouldn't waste it.

"Thank you. All of you…" Ripslinger said, his voice wavering as he was overcome with emotion, something he had sequestered for a long time until recently. Damn it. He couldn't cry again. Even if it was out of happiness.

Dusty grinned as he went over to hug Ripslinger to comfort him. "You did it, Rip!" 

One of Ripslinger's breaths hitched at that, as he looked at Dusty to his right, whose head was next to his during the embrace. Dusty took him by surprise; apparently his friends were surprised as well, as they looked on with wide eyes. 

Once he got over his shock, he leaned back into the embrace, returning it before he pulled away. "Uh…thanks, Dusty." He said, feeling a bit awkward. Why was that so awkward? Friends hugged, right? Well, at least it felt nice while it lasted. "I didn't know you were such a hugger…" 

Dusty just laughed. "We've hugged twice, Rip, and hugs make everything better."

"Well, you've got a point there…"

"Besides, I know Dusty's a hugger. He does it anytime someone's upset or down. But it always works." Skipper chimed in. 

"Yep!" Dusty affirmed.

"So, Rip, did you want a can of oil from the Fill 'N Fly to start off the day? I can get you one real quick." Dottie said.

Ripslinger nodded, one of his propellers giving an affirmative flick. "Yeah, that'd be good. Kind of tired after explaining all of that and from the anxiety leading up to it, heh." 

"I'll head over too! I haven't had mine yet." Chug said, as he drove away with Dottie.

"So, Ripslinger, what'd you say to a flight with Dusty and I?" Skipper suggested, which shocked Ripslinger.

"Um…" _Where did that come from?_ Ripslinger wondered. "Sure! I'm always down for flying." He replied, a confused look still on his face as he looked at Skipper. Dusty, however, didn't look shocked by the proposal, and instead looked excited. Peculiar… 

Skipper let out a low chuckle. "If you're wondering, Dusty suggested the idea to me while you were still sleeping, before he told me and the others that you had something to tell us. I was going to agree to it, anyway, but your apology definitely made me convinced that it could be fun." 

"You could see Propwash some more, and we could train some more if you'd like. Besides, the mountain range is only one part of my usual training! You can see what I do with Skipper." Dusty explained.

 _Well, that certainly sounds good. Learning what Dusty does would certainly help me. I'll definitely remember to return the favor._ Ripslinger thought. "Sounds good! I'm looking forward to it." 

He already felt less out of place, and part of the "Propwash family," as Chug put it. Although he had his reservations about trying to apologize to Dusty's friends, they were now definitely gone. He never expected to be one of Dusty's many friends in the first place, yet here he was. He might even learn something from Dusty's mentor, which he definitely thought would never happen.

* * *

"Alright. You two ready?" Skipper asked, glancing behind himself at Ripslinger and Dusty as they moved into position on Propwash Junction's runway.

"Ready to go, Skip!" Dusty replied, starting his propeller.

"Ready." Ripslinger replied, starting his propellers as well and he flexed his control surfaces, ensuring that they were nimble and relaxed so he could do aerial maneuvers with ease if necessary, which they probably would be.

"Time to do some flying, then." Skipper said, starting his own propeller as all three planes started their takeoff roll with sufficient distance between them.

Ripslinger was soon airborne along with Dusty and Skipper, and he retracted his landing gear as he followed the other two planes to wherever they were going, still unfamiliar with Propwash and where Dusty usually trained.

"How about we start with the corn fields, Dusty?" Skipper suggested, shifting his gaze over to the grain elevators that protruded out from the seemingly endless corn fields. 

"Sounds like a plan, Skip!" Dusty replied, descending so that they were flying pretty low over the corn fields. Any lower, and the corn plants would start tickling Ripslinger's underbelly. 

Ripslinger flew a bit higher to observe what Dusty was doing, and soon saw that he was using the grain elevators as a slalom course of sorts, kind of like what they did in the mountains. He turned sharply so that he passed each grain elevator on the opposite side, never losing any speed.

 _So that's why he's so agile._ Ripslinger thought, as Dusty straightened out and climbed up to a more comfortable altitude after passing the three grain elevators, turning around to fly back in the direction they came from.

"Nice job, Dusty!" Skipper complimented, following Dusty closely behind.

"How about you try, Rip?" Dusty suggested, flying close enough to Ripslinger so he could hear. 

"Alright. I've got a bit of practice with sharp turns from our flight yesterday. Hopefully it pays off." Ripslinger replied, turning around to face the grain elevators Dusty just traversed, and preparing to pass the first one on the left. 

That was easy enough as he passed the first one with ease, but he quickly banked to the right to pass the next grain elevator on the right, slowing his propellers slightly so he'd have more time to react and stay in stable flight at a lower speed. 

He then banked hard to the left to pass the last grain elevator on the left, and he soon pulled up after he did so successfully. Although he managed to handle the tight turns well, he had a feeling that he didn't do it as cleanly as Dusty. Well, he didn't expect to do it perfectly on the first try, anyway. 

"You're banking a bit too hard on the turns. Let loose a bit." Skipper advised, which shocked both Ripslinger and Dusty. Dusty because Skipper was actually giving Ripslinger pointers, and Ripslinger because he thought that he had actually done pretty well.

"I'll try that." Ripslinger replied, deciding to be more humble and take the advice. Skipper was probably right, anyway, and he couldn't be the gold standard in air racing all the time.

He turned around to traverse the grain elevators another time, and he found that when he didn't suddenly turn his rudder, he definitely felt more aerodynamic and free. He didn't have to slow down, and he passed the grain elevators with higher velocity as he zigzagged around each grain elevator. 

He pulled up after he traversed the makeshift slalom course a second time, and Skipper's expression was definitely telling. "There you go!" The Corsair said, and Ripslinger knew that he had done better. 

"Thanks for the advice." Ripslinger said as he flew alongside Dusty and Skipper towards the river that flowed around the backside of the plateau that Propwash Junction was built on. 

"There's an old railway bridge that I use to practice vertical climb." Dusty explained as they approached said railway bridge, Dusty descending so that he was flying just above the river's surface. 

"What's the bridge gotta do with vertical climb?" Ripslinger inquired. 

"Oh, you'll see!" Dusty replied, as they approached the railway bridge. Ripslinger pulled up to fly over the bridge like any normal plane would, not wanting to fly under it, but Dusty flew under it, and then proceeded to pitch up sharply, almost making 90 degrees with the ground as he quickly gained altitude, pushing his engine to fight against gravity.

He leveled off before he broke through the cloud cover, descending back down to where Ripslinger and Skipper were. "It's more fun to fly under the bridge! Also gives incentive to pull up sharply since the river rises a bit after that bridge." Dusty explained. 

Ever since that incident which alerted them to Dusty's gearbox having a problem, Skipper was always a bit hesitant when Dusty practiced vertical climb. "Looks like your gearbox is holding up. Good." 

Meanwhile, Ripslinger looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow. _That_ was something that he was less willing to try. Pitching up like that when the river was right below you? His tail could hit the water, and planes and water didn't mix. "You're crazy. Aren't you afraid that your tail will hit the water?" 

"Well, I don't pull up _that_ sharply at first, and I guess since I'm a smaller plane it's easier for me to fly under the bridge." Dusty mused. "If you don't want to try that one, I understand." 

Ripslinger glanced back at the bridge that was behind them. Well, it was pretty high off of the river. He could probably do it. It was just so foreign for him to fly so low to the ground. "Nah. I'll try it." He also didn't want to seem afraid of it; if Dusty could do it, so could he.

He turned around, descending so that his flight path took him under the railway bridge. He flew under it successfully, and pulled up, climbing sharply as he moved his elevators up to ascend. He pushed his engine as he flew straight up, 90 degrees to the ground, with ease. Of course, having a more powerful engine allowed him to be more comfortable with vertical climb.

Once he was high enough, he quickly leveled out and descended back to where Dusty and Skipper were. He had done that many times when he trained outside RPX headquarters, so fighting gravity was less foreign to him than flying around grain elevators.

"Wow! You didn't even lose any speed flying vertically!" Dusty exclaimed. 

"Well, he has the more powerful engine, but both of you have your strengths." Skipper said.

"I guess that was definitely some incentive to pull up. I see why you do that." Ripslinger remarked.

"Yep! Now you know. So that's some of the stuff that Skip and I do to train." Dusty said as they flew over the corn fields.

"Thanks for showing me; this definitely helped me get better. I'll be sure to return the favor." Ripslinger asserted, a smile on his face. He definitely knew that he'd like his time here.


	15. In Vino Veritas

The next few days just improved Ripslinger’s relationship with Dusty and his friends, and he always enjoyed the company of either Dusty, Chug, Dottie, Sparky, Skipper, or even all of them. He, Dusty, and Skipper didn’t go out for flights every day, but they did it often enough where he learned a few things, and he showed Dusty a few things in return.

Although he liked hanging out with Dusty’s friends, each having their own quirks that he took interest in, he had to admit; he liked Dusty’s company the most. After all, Dusty was the one who gave him a second chance.

He couldn’t blame Dusty’s friends, but they were probably glad when he lost almost everything after the “Ripstinker” ordeal, just because of what he did to Dusty. The media had that opinion, his fellow racers had that opinion; hell, that opinion was still very much alive when he showed up at the 2015 Wings Around The Globe.

He was looked at as a monster that no one wanted to associate with; when he won the leg to Iceland, RSN basically rushed over saying his name during their coverage, probably afraid that giving him too much publicity would cause outrage.

But then Dusty came along. He was the only one who believed in him when he didn’t even believe in himself. He helped him work himself back up to good public opinion. He made him feel valued again. He gave him the strength and affirmation that he lacked. He made him…whole.

He didn’t know how to describe it, but it was like there was a hole in his life that he had ignored by pandering to the cameras and enjoying the limelight. Dusty made him complete, providing him with that companionship that he didn’t even know that he needed.

It sounded so sappy in his head, but it was true. He thought that the joy he felt when he had Dusty’s company was just gratitude for what Dusty did for him and his willingness to be friends, but he didn’t experience such a thing with Dusty’s other friends, even though he did enjoy their company as well.

But Dusty was different. He felt a real _connection_ with the Air Tractor, something that was foreign to him and that he was afraid of. It was stronger than just friendship; he knew that much, at least. Wait. Was it…love? Maybe that’s why he reacted so weirdly to the hug Dusty gave him when he apologized to his friends…

Ripslinger always discredited such thoughts whenever they came. They had only known each other for what, a month? Well, technically two years, but they had only been on good terms for a month. It was too short for that to really be the case. _We’re just really good friends._ He usually thought, but Dusty kept on living rent-free in his head.

He would hide from addressing the subject or even thinking about it, though he would come across as distracted at times, and those he was with when he was distracted took notice. Dusty even asked him if he was okay at one point, to which he quickly affirmed that he was.

He would find out that he could hide from it no longer when Dusty invited him out to Honkers again, to hang out with his friends for the night. Stuff that he did for leisure in Propwash quickly became repetitive since there wasn’t much to do in the small town, but he didn’t mind Honkers. It was a charming place that was probably the most fun; after all, that’s where the booze was.

“Hey, Rip! You want to hang out at Honkers again? Maybe we could do a rematch since you beat me at darts last time.” Dusty suggested after Ripslinger had answered his hangar doors. 

“Sure, but don’t be too sure that you’ll win this time.” Ripslinger replied smugly, to which Dusty just laughed. 

“We’ll see.” The Air Tractor replied with a smile.

So that's how he found himself heading with Dusty towards Honkers, utilizing the light from the taxiway lights to find their way. They soon arrived at the bustling sports bar, where cars, forklifts, and planes were already mingling at tables or on the "dance floor," if he could even call it that. 

The quaint country music that usually filled the sports bar didn't really create a party atmosphere in his opinion, more of a relaxed one. But hey; if the people dancing were having the time of their lives, he wasn't going to judge them. 

Dusty spotted his friends, save for Dottie, at a table near the dartboard, and he quickly headed over to greet them, Ripslinger following close behind. The Mustang immediately noticed the mechanic's absence, and he wondered if she was busy with something in his garage. 

"Hey guys! Where's Dottie?" Dusty asked, wondering the same thing as Ripslinger.

"Oh, she didn't feel like drinking tonight. Apparently she had a headache after the Crudeweiser last time." Chug said, shrugging with his crane arm. 

"Well, those can go down badly for some; anything that we invent here usually turns out that way." Skipper remarked. 

"Anyway, we don't _have_ to drink when we're here. I mean, Sparky didn't last time, right?" Dusty pointed out. 

"Yes, but one of us usually ends up doing so. It's a bar." Sparky said, chuckling.

Dusty laughed as well. "Yeah, you're right about that! So, Rip, how about that rematch? I like to think I lost last time because of the alcohol." 

One of Ripslinger's propellers gave an amused flick at the excuse. "You had a Heineken and a Budweiser, Dusty. I doubt they did anything, but be my guest." He said with a smirk. 

Skipper laughed, amused at the banter between the two former enemies. "I knew you two would want a rematch. That's why I chose a table close to the dartboard."

"Thanks, Skip. I appreciate it." Dusty said, turning to look at his mentor with an appreciative smile. 

Ripslinger looked at Skipper to thank him as well. "At least it's less distance to travel to the dartboard. Alright, Dusty. You're on. Both of us sober." 

Turns out, maybe the alcohol did have a factor, since Dusty managed to win this time around, but barely. Ripslinger could've won if he managed to land on the 11 point section of the board that he was aiming for, but he cursed his dart as it either landed too high, too low, to the left, or to the right. 

"Alright. I suppose I have to accept defeat. Good thing I'm not known for dart throwing." Ripslinger muttered, always a sore loser.

"Hey, you had the lead over me most of the game!" Dusty pointed out, trying to make Ripslinger feel better. 

"I guess. Next time, we just have to play when you're tipsy so I can win again." Ripslinger teased.

Dusty rolled his eyes. "But then that's not fair…" 

"For you, maybe." Ripslinger retorted, as they headed back to their table.

Now that anything that required mental acuity was over, the drinks were ordered, and Ripslinger was soon drinking a Jack and Coke. It had way too much Jack and way too little Coke, but from his margarita that he had last time, he knew that the bartenders were heavy handed on the liquor. 

It wasn't anything that he couldn't take, anyway, but he'd probably stop at that; one could get drunk very easily once they passed a certain threshold, and he wanted to stay in the pleasantly tipsy stage of drunkenness. Though he couldn't help but ask the question…

"Do they always get the liquor ratios in cocktails wrong here? Because this is the second time I'm drinking something that's mainly liquor." Ripslinger muttered as he drank from the glass.

"Yep!" Dusty replied, drinking from his screwdriver. "That's how they make 'em here! I sometimes forget that when I come back from being overseas. It takes me a lot less to get plastered!" 

"Judging from your enthusiasm in admitting that the bartenders here are insane makes me think that you're already plastered." Ripslinger replied, taking another sip from his Jack and Coke.

"Which is why I'm always very careful that Dusty doesn't drink too much." Skipper explained, keeping a close eye on the Air Tractor. Dusty could go from being perfectly sober to being drunk in the span of a very short period of time with a potent enough cocktail. 

"It's good that you're trying to prevent him from embarrassing himself." Sparky remarked, looking up at the Corsair with a smile.

Chug nodded. "Yeah! Skip's got experience from the hula skirt incident. Don't want the same thing happening to Dusty!" 

Skipper gave Chug a death glare at the mention of that story, as Ripslinger couldn't help but chuckle. That story was definitely entertaining when Sparky told it. Dusty laughed as well, but Sparky just looked concernedly at Skipper. 

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Skipper muttered, his glare softening as he gave a resigned sigh. "But yes, Chug, it's never good to get to the point where you're at a serious risk of a hangover the next day. It's not fun." 

"We only tease you because we love you, Skip." Dusty said, as he turned to Ripslinger. "Hey, I was wondering. Didn't you compare the drink named after me to a Long Island iced tea, Rip? You wanna share one?" 

Ripslinger was taken aback by the offer, and he opened his mouth to speak, intending to say something in reply before he was interrupted by Skipper, who was obviously unhappy by Dusty's suggestion. 

"Did you not just hear me, Dusty? That cocktail is potent! And you've already had a screwdriver!" Skipper protested.

"It's only one drink, Skip! I'll be fine. Besides, I've never actually had one, and if Rip agrees to it, we'll be sharing it, so it won't be as bad as having one all by myself." Dusty was curious, since he had heard about the Long Island iced tea's dangerous reputation. 

_Well, one doesn't gain experience if they don't try new things…_ Ripslinger thought. "Half of one won't get him drunk, Skip. I'll make sure of that." 

Skipper gave Ripslinger and Dusty a hard look, before giving a resigned sigh. Even if he said no, Dusty would be persistent enough that he would end up allowing it anyway. "Alright. But after that, no more drinking. I'm not carrying you back to your hangar." 

They soon waved down a waitress to take their order, and it came a few minutes later in two separate smaller glasses, one cocktail split into two after being mixed by one of the bartenders. The drink looked exactly like iced tea, the same amber hue, which confused Dusty at first. 

"Huh? Is it actually iced tea?" Dusty inquired, not sure as to what made it alcoholic.

"No, it's just named that because it looks like iced tea. Don't be fooled. It has tequila, vodka, white rum, triple sec, and gin in there. Just smell it." Ripslinger answered.

Dusty neared one of his intakes to the glass and took an experimental sniff. Yep. That was the telltale smell of alcohol. "Huh. It's pretty deceptive." 

"Yeah. You sure you still want to drink it?" Ripslinger asked, arching an eyebrow as he shifted his gaze from his glass to Dusty.

Skipper was really hoping that Dusty would say no, but the racer obviously wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. "Yep! First time for everything, right?" Dusty said, as he took a sip from the glass.

He had a bemused look immediately afterwards, as he looked at his glass. "It tastes sweet. And tangy." 

"That's probably the lemon juice talking." Ripslinger said, as he took a sip from his glass, increasingly interested in how it tasted now that he saw Dusty's reaction to it. Sweet? The bartenders here were heavy handed on the liquor; it shouldn't be _that_ sweet.

He could taste a hint of the various liquors in there, but it was mostly sweet and tangy, as Dusty said. It was known for going down easier than other cocktails, but he really couldn't taste the alcohol if he didn't think about it. Well, maybe besides the gin. "They probably put too much Coke and lemon juice in here." 

"So even more reason why I wouldn't get drunk off of it! Nice!" Dusty said, as he proceeded to take another sip of the drink. "It definitely tastes good. Like a weird Coke with orange and lemon juice."

“That’s one way of putting it…” Ripslinger remarked, taking another sip of the drink as well. It definitely went down easy…too easy. But Dusty was fine so far. Nothing to worry about.

Skipper, however, was sure to keep a close eye on Dusty as Chug and Sparky struck up conversation again, and slowly, but surely, the signs were appearing. It started out with Dusty being more jovial than usual, breaking out into laughter at anything Chug and Sparky brought up, even if it wasn’t exactly funny.

By the time he finished the drink, he was swaying on his landing gear, and one could think that Dusty was dancing to the country music, but Skipper found it more likely that Dusty was starting to lose his balance. 

And then he lost all of his inhibitions, deciding that it was a good idea to invade Ripslinger’s personal space as he sidled up next to the P-51, nuzzling his plating and practically cuddling him in public with a goofy smile on his face, to Ripslinger’s chagrin and Chug and Sparky’s shock, causing the fuel truck to break off mid-sentence when he saw what was happening.

Skipper knew that he had to call the night off after that. Dusty was drunk. There was no doubt about that. “Okay, that's enough. I thought you said that he wouldn’t get drunk, Rip.” He said, giving Ripslinger a hard look.

“W-Well I…!” He started, trying to explain. Dusty continuing to cuddle into his side without a care in the world wasn’t helping, either. He himself wasn’t that drunk, probably at the tipsy stage. “They probably put in more sugar to compensate for more alcohol…”

"I'm not drunk! I'm just happy!" Dusty protested in a slurred voice, all while still refusing to give Ripslinger space.

Skipper just looked at Dusty with a raised eyebrow, sighing. "You're practically using Ripslinger as your pillow in public. You're drunk."

"Nuh uh!" Dusty replied. "This is just my secret tactic." 

"Your secret _what?_ " Chug asked, wondering what that was. 

"All I gotta do is do this in the middle of the race, and I'll beat Rip!" He explained, laughing. "Good for me too…" 

Ripslinger looked down at Dusty by his left side, concerned. What nonsense was he spouting? Perhaps Skipper was right in his description of a drunk Dusty back when he hung out at Honkers for the first time. He thought that the Corsair had been exaggerating…

"I'm calling it a night." Skipper said abruptly, looking tired. "It's late already, anyway. Since Dusty obviously wants to stay with _you,_ Rip, and you were complicit in giving him that cocktail, I trust you can get him to his hangar." 

"Wait, _what?_ " Ripslinger asked, fully intending to protest. "You know him better than I do; you're more qualified! Besides, you're not drunk. You didn't drink anything!" 

"You're sober enough considering that you remember that. Now I'm heading off. You'd better ensure he makes it to his hangar." Skipper said, shooting Ripslinger a serious stare before he sauntered off to his own hangar near the end of the runway.

"Bye Skip!" Dusty chirped happily, oblivious to Ripslinger's predicament.

Ripslinger just stared blankly at the Corsair driving away from their table, before he shifted his gaze to Chug and Sparky. "You guys know him better than I do. Surely one of you can bring him to his hangar." 

"Well, maybe. I don't know, I also had stuff to drink-Not it!" Chug quickly shouted, which Sparky quickly followed with another "Not it!" 

Ripslinger probably would've been able to call "Not it!" before Sparky, had he not been slightly intoxicated. "Not-" He cut off as he realized that he was last. "Damn it."

"Sorry, Rip. He's fond of you at the moment! Makes the most sense to choose you because he won't stray away!" Sparky said, as he and Chug drove off. 

_That's why I was afraid of being the one to bring him back…_ Ripslinger sighed. Dusty was a bit too close for comfort, and he had no idea what Dusty's motives were, cuddling up to him like that. Did he do it just as a friend? He was afraid because…well…he liked it. And he wanted to distance himself from that. Dusty wasn't in his right mind at the moment. He didn't mean it.

"Hm…finally, it's just the two of us." Dusty murmured happily, as he continued his relentless snuggling against one of Ripslinger's intakes. 

_Chrysler help me if we don't make it to his hangar…_ "Not exactly. We're still in Honkers, and you're making a scene. Move along." Ripslinger said, moving behind Dusty and practically pushing him out of Honkers before anyone else could stare at them, the Air Tractor making various sounds of protest on the way out.

"Oof! Rip, be more gentle…" Dusty protested.

"If you'd help me out here by actually moving your landing gear instead of being dead weight, I wouldn't have to push so hard on your tail." Ripslinger retorted, while continuing to nudge Dusty along with his nose.

"Hmph, fine!" Dusty said, moving off and relieving some strain on Ripslinger's nose. Ripslinger was relieved…until Dusty almost crashed head first into a table near the entrance to Honkers. 

"Okay, you know what? Never mind." Ripslinger pushed Dusty again, and they finally made it outside Honkers. Only several more hangars to pass before they'd arrive at Dusty's… 

"Carry me!" Dusty suddenly blurted out, looking at Ripslinger while he laughed.

"I am _not_ carrying you. Now move!" Ripslinger said, trying to keep Dusty on a straight line as he pushed him with his nose, until Dusty decided to speak up again.

"You know, you wouldn't have to push me if you carried me!" Dusty pointed out.

Well, Dusty had a point. How Dusty managed to make that rational point while he was drunk was beyond him. "…Fine. But don't expect this to be a recurring thing." Ripslinger acquiesced.

He lowered his tail to let Dusty clamber onto his wings, and Dusty practically squealed with glee as he hugged his fuselage with his landing gear. It was definitely harder to move with the extra weight, but he managed to make his way to Dusty's hangar. He had to admit that it was probably faster this way, though he could only hope that no one saw him. 

"Yay! I'm riding on the Green Tornado's back!" Dusty yelled, practically alerting the whole town to what they were doing. Hell, even _Skipper_ could probably hear Dusty from his hangar all the way at the end of the runway. 

"Will you shut up!?!" He whispered harshly, trying to get Dusty to his hangar as quickly as he could so he could fulfill what he was tasked with. 

"Nope!" Dusty replied, to which Ripslinger just gave a resigned sigh. 

They finally made it after passing a few hangars, and Ripslinger looked up at Dusty's underbelly, which was now on top of him since he was carrying Dusty. "Alright. We're here. Get off of me." He said, lowering his tail which caused Dusty to eventually slide off of him as he moved forward, Dusty falling on his landing gear as he let out an "Oof!" in protest. 

Ripslinger opened the hangar doors with a wingtip, as he stared at Dusty expectantly. "Come on. In you go." 

Dusty was surprisingly obedient, apparently satiated by being carried all the way to his hangar. Ripslinger turned on the lights in Dusty's hangar so the other plane could make his way to his sleeping mat. "Good night, Dusty." He said, turning around to head back to his own hangar to sleep, until Dusty stopped him.

"Wait!" Dusty protested, to which Ripslinger turned back around to look at Dusty.

"Yeah? What is it?" 

"Stay with me! I'm too hyper to fall asleep!" Dusty explained.

Ripslinger deadpanned. Dusty was _hyper?_ Usually alcohol had the opposite effect… "I'm not sure how me staying with you helps you fall asleep." 

Dusty huffed, moving closer to Ripslinger again. "I'll eventually fall asleep with enough cuddles…you're so warm…"

 _That_ statement knocked him pretty much sober. Ripslinger didn't like that tone of voice…well, he did, but Dusty didn't mean it. He was drunk. Whatever he did, he certainly wouldn't remember in the morning. He really didn't want to stay, but then he thought about it. 

Dusty would have a hell of a hangover when he woke up, and he figured that he should be there to help him when he did wake up. Besides, if that's what Dusty needed to go to sleep, then Ripslinger would have to do it anyway, lest Dusty's neighbors hear his drunkenness all night. 

Ripslinger shut the hangar doors behind him, turning out the lights. He then looked at Dusty. "Fine, Dusty. I'll stay with you." 

"Yay!" Dusty squealed, and he practically dragged Ripslinger onto his sleeping mat. It definitely wasn't big enough for the two of them, but Dusty didn't seem to mind at the moment as he went back to nuzzling Ripslinger's left side, very content with doing so. "Mmm…Rip…" 

Ripslinger couldn't deny that it felt good when Dusty's plating rubbed against his, but he would show restraint. However, the feelings that he thought were love only became stronger when Dusty kept on stroking his frame against his, even being daring enough to lick his plating a few times, which caused him to gasp through his intakes. "Dusty…"

 _I don't recall Skipper ever mentioning Dusty being especially…tactile when he's drunk…_ He mused. Was it…genuine, and Dusty was only holding it back, until the alcohol caused him to lose his inhibitions?

"Why, Dusty? Why are you so interested in _me?_ " Ripslinger finally asked.

Dusty just laughed at the question, looking at Ripslinger with a smile. "Heh, I've looked up to you for many years, Rip, in more ways than one…"

Ripslinger's mouth was left agape as he heard what Dusty said, not sure what to make of that statement. It was almost as if Dusty intentionally made it vague. "What do you mean?" 

"You know what I mean. I admire you…maybe we could be more than just friends. I really like you…love you…" He said, coinciding with another lick to Ripslinger's fuselage.

Ripslinger never thought that he'd hear those words come out of Dusty's mouth, but he immediately discredited them. Dusty was drunk. He didn't mean anything that he said. He didn't even know why he continued talking to Dusty; he would remember none of it, most likely! Yet…he still felt compelled to talk.

"You don't mean that. You're drunk. It'd be best if you just went to sleep." 

"Hmph. All the more I'd mean it. Nothing held back…from you…" The alcohol seemed to finally get to the depressant stage, as Dusty's movements became slower, and his eyes shut. He continued resting against Ripslinger, his breathing becoming more even as he eventually fell asleep.

Ripslinger was silent as he tried to think about what Dusty said. Well, there was that saying… _in vino veritas._ Wait, no. He wasn't going to get his hopes up like that. The only time he would hear the truth was when Dusty was sober, and he wasn't even sure if he'd bring it up again. 

It would make things awkward between the two; Dusty wouldn't even remember what had happened. He didn't want to ruin the friendship they already had. He had come to a resolution; he'd tell Dusty when he woke up that he wanted him to keep him company. That was it. He shut his eyes as Dusty rested against him, determined to keep what had happened to himself as he fell asleep.


End file.
